By YouCanCallMeAl


Us kids imagined the West Wind had taken her.

She lived among the barely-mentioned,
a whisper among the adults on the walk home from church
or on their breath in the parlour after whiskey and beer.

Our elder brother held on to a memory of her, possibly false:
wasn’t her laugh the lightest ever? Maybe.

One day we’d demand to know more about our Mum’s sister.

Sister Rosetta Goes Before Us

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