Last week I was at a family funeral, and I saw Auntie Effie for the first time since I was very, very young. (Aside: being from New England, it's not pronounce anty--it's onty. But with an open throat--Aaaaahnty Effie. I just thought you should know that.)
She told me a story: I was 2 or 3 years old, sitting in her lap reading a book. Auntie Effie said to me, "Can you read that, sweetie?" and I replied, "Quiet, Auntie, you're disturbing me!"
I don't remember this, but it's such a perfect, wonderful story. And from someone who hasn't seen me in 15 or 20 years, and doesn't necessarily know how I turned out. I think it's kind of perfect.
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