Margret talked about her Great Aunt Isabel from the day I met her. The matriarch of her clan had done everything, been everywhere. Her family lived in this larger-than-life character’s enormous shadow. Perhaps “great” was a title or description, not a generational mark.
I was nervous when I finally met her. As we waited in the parlor, I noticed the stacks of oversized books here and there, and the random platform shoes tossed carelessly about.
When the giant of Margret’s family arrived, I went into shock. She could barely see the table top, even seated on her stack of books. Continue reading