The mommie and I moved in with Grandmom and Poppop after she found lipstick on my father's collar. Both of my parents said they thought it was a temporary separation but it turned into divorce. My Uncle John was still living there.
He was waiting at the street car stop for the mommie one evening as she returned from work. He wanted to tell her that he had spanked me because he found me drawing on the wall. The mommie assured him that it was fine. I have a vague memory of the event. It may be more conjured than remembered. It was one of the mommie's favorite stories.
I do remember walking behind him one day. Keeping my eyes on his pant leg. I looked away for a minute and then found a pant leg and followed it. We turned into a bar. It was dark and smokey and filled with men. I turned around and my uncle was standing there looking at me. He asked - did you want a beer? Everyone laughed. Grandmom did not laugh when she heard the story. She was very anti alcohol. And anti smoking but she turned a blind eye to Uncle John's smoking. He was her favorite.
There is a lot of writing about memory. How much of our memory is true? It's interesting when you're trying to write a true account of your life. I know I was very young when I walked into my first bar. The memory feels true. It was another of the mommie's favorites.
I was the flower girl in my Uncle John's wedding. He moved out and began his family. Every year or so there was a new cousin. Four in all.
I loved him so much.
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