Aunt Ruth

42010

My Grandma Hildreth was a wife and mother of two little boys when her own mother past away. Eliza was her name. A few years later, her father, William Gray, was swooned into marriage by one of Eliza’s Scottish cousins, Aunt Ruth. (Kind of gross, but this was the olden days). My grandma, an extremely charming and sincere person, was very cordial with Aunt Ruth. But, if you asked her today what she thought of Aunt Ruth, she’d likely give you a coy little smile, shift her eyes into the near distance and release an involuntary hiccup of fragmented thoughts. She’d try to withhold her true feelings. But it’s obvious. She did not like Aunt Ruth.

Aunt Ruth was not her mother. She wasn’t her father’s soul mate. But she was a lonely woman, and William was a widower. Ruth could take care of him and keep him company.

Well that’s all fine and dandy, but guess what happened?
Aunt Ruth moved into William’s home. His home that he built with Eliza. His home that was filled with his and Eliza’s belongings. Coming over from Scotland and all, Ruth didn’t have many of her own things. So, she just sort of acquired Eliza’s stuff.

That’s not right!

Grandma would go over for visits and ask about certain things that had belonged to her mother. Wondering where they were. Wondering if she could have them. Aunt Ruth would play dumb. Say she’d never seen ‘em before. Unbelievable!

This is completely wrong, but it happens. So, why shouldn’t I be worried that the same thing happens to me?

Oh!––I’m worried alright. And there’s just no getting around it.