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Aunty Gracia The Story

Page 4

Helen Braun

When finally after we had all exhausted ourselves, a lull always seemed to mosey on in. Then someone would pop the kettle on for tea. That is when Aunty Gracia would give a deep musical sigh and arrange her ample body gracefully, slow seating her frame upon a comfortable couch. And that is when the stories would begin. Lights were set to dimmest, the smallest of lamps, the best was candlelight. The atmosphere would be set, and for sure we were all tired. Ssshh is how it began from full pursed lips shoosh schussing everyone, framing a calm, settling the waters, tonal expectation for a longing we were yet to know. 

So you want to know the stories? I can see you getting comfortable, sashaying your bottom into the soft couch cushions with a getting ready wriggle. Pricking up your ears, waiting eagerly to light upon those words of telling from Aunty Gracia. You are waiting. And don’t think I don’t know your waiting cause I know your waiting from way back then when it all happened. Back then when I was one of the little kids plumped comfy down upon the floor on piled up scatter cushions. Squirmy still, all expectant, all ears, just waiting.

And in the quiet there would be a pause and I would sift fall into the pause. A deep tuned down pause hard to recall. In fact, I can’t even recall a node of it. Not even a noodle nor a niggled nudge cause here is the one. Aunty Gracia really did keep us awake and at the same time she kept all of us dreaming. It was all the one. And really, as Aunty Gracia would agree, totally one hundred percent agree, that is all you need to know. 

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