With Auntie being 91 years old, there was no denying the fact that no one knows how much longer she’ll be with us, and so with her being the kindest, gentlest person I’ve ever known, it was important for Jessica to spend every moment she could with her.
With henna from the Garba still on her hands, Jessica’s visit to Arizona was coming to an end. I was about to bring her to the airport for her flight back to Florence, Texas, and a special kind of misery she was desperately trying to escape.
I should explain here my unkind words regarding her situation in Texas. Back in 1999, she called asking to come live with us in Scottsdale; I had to tell her to stick it out and finish her education (as it was) right there where she’d grown up. Moving from the sticks to one of the snootiest uptight communities in America would open her up to bullying ridicule for her Texan drawl, and she’d be disadvantaged by parents who wouldn’t pacify a need to compete with the snobs we were living among. While we don’t like elitism, we also don’t like the depravity that often accompanies poverty and so Caroline and I were still trying to reconcile this dichotomy in our own situation here in America. Now that she’s nearly finished with school, as much as I’d like to invite her to stay, she’s too close to graduating. While her mom is a dear person, her choice of men has been questionable. Such is my mea culpa.
