Aunt Dotty

My sister,  Sally, and I took a ride down to Massachusetts see our aunt yesterday.  She's our father's sister and the last sibling left.

A couple years ago on another visit, I asked her how her late husband, George, and she had met and she told me the following story:

Aunt Dotty sits
on her red couch
in front of a multi-
colored granny square
afghan.


When I ask, “How
did you and Uncle
George meet?"


a small sunrise
blossoms on her face.


She smiles and says,
“Well, my friend, Sarita,
and I were walking home
from downtown when


her brother pulled up
in his little coupe
and asked if we’d like


a ride. We said sure
and climbed in. The only
problem was that
there was no back seat


and her brother had
a friend with him.


So, Sarita climbed in
the middle and I sat
on George’s lap.”


Here her voice
gets deep and warm
as summer.


“After they dropped
me off, Sarita said
to George, ‘How’d


you like Dotty? Isn’t
she pretty?’ And George
answered, ‘Well, I couldn’t
see her face
but she has a soft
fanny.'”


The were married
for over 50 years.