“Parents can only give good advice or put them on the right paths, but the final forming of a person’s character lies in their own hands.” — Anne Frank
Over spring break, I went with my sons to South Carolina to visit my parents. At the end of our week, three of my aunts drove in from three different states. These are my mother’s sisters, and they have been a part of my life for as far back as I can remember.
It was a mostly good visit. We sat around telling stories, and I always love hearing about my mom before she was my mom. They told how some cousins scared her in the graveyard, and she fainted. The cousins were so afraid Mama would tell on them, they waited on her hand and foot for a month.
It’s hard to imagine my mother helping with a séance in the graveyard at night (most of their stories involve graveyards, because we are from eastern Kentucky, where every house has its own cemetery). She grew up to be my hard-working, penny-pinching, bluegrass-singing, quilt-quilting Mama, and I’d be lucky to be half the woman she is.
Unfortunately, it is an election year, so the conversation eventually turned to which candidate everyone is voting for. That’s when I had to start biting my tongue. I won’t tell you whom my aunts liked and didn’t like, but I will tell you, we didn’t agree on any of them.
I bit my tongue so often it’s amazing I didn’t come home with a bloody chin, but I digress.