Aunt Sue once told me that when I was just a baby—and she was unable to have children—my mom told her she would “share me” with her. And she truly did. I spent time many summers with her.
I have countless memories of summertime with Aunt Sue and Uncle Harold. Crawfishing in the backyard with bacon or bologna—“poor man’s ham,” she called it—tied to yarn. I still remember the day we accidentally broke a pincher off one while trying to pull it from a hole, feeling terrible and feeding it the rest of the bologna to make up for it. We built intricate dollhouses out of big cardboard boxes, and she fixed my hair for church in the little updo all the girls were wearing. I felt like something special. 💗💗
I remember church services with Bro. Gibson playing the steel guitar, and I can still taste her homemade burritos—truly the best I’ve ever had.
Her love filled those summers, and her memory will forever fill my heart