This History That Comes From My Feminine Tree
My Auntie is the youngest of ten children, six of
them happen to be daughters. The sisters were
always extremely close and other than the one who
moved to New Jersey, the sisters spoke at some
point most days if they did not see one another.
Auntie was considered the good sister because she
did not drink, or party and the other sisters were
known to partake and cut a rug and men loved
them … all.
Auntie never got married but had two children,
thirteen years apart for her love, the only man we
ever saw her with. They started dating in 1953
and dated until he died in 2007… yes, 54 years.
He took her on dates, trips, and spent time with
her and the family. But for whatever reason, they
never jumped the broom. She has a nice rock on
her ring finger and periodically I see her staring
at a small smile on her face and her gold incisor
twinkling… she has secrets … secrets I respect.
Auntie was known as having ailments though no
one quite articulated what they were, and she was
the picture of health, with a full-body and legs
that made men swoon. She was the aunt that was
always home, the one who allowed us to read sexy
magazines and who we could be “young” around
without worrying about chastisement. I knew
there was more to her than we saw or heard…
28 | NKLC Magazine
those eyes were filled with quiet secrets.
In 1988, she was diagnosed with breast cancer and
in the past thirty-one years she has battled uterine
cancer, bone cancer and systemic cancer, but at
almost eighty-six, she is still with us. She is frail
but sturdy and the only sibling still standing. In
the past several years, we have grown extremely
close confidantes and she reads all my books, even
the sexy ones. I marvel at her and how resilient
she is, how many times she has been counted out,
yet here she is. Marvel at how often when I drive
up, she is working in her yard that looks like it is
cared for by a professional gardener.
Twice monthly, I make the two-hour drive to take
her to appointments and we talk and laugh like
girls. We always stop for Popeyes chicken after
the appointment and I sit with her a few hours
before returning the two-hour drive home. We
discuss books, the world around us and faith. She
always tells me of her gratitude for me and I tell
her there is no comparison. She is the last limb of
the sturdy tree from whence I grew… that’s what
she is to me… that sturdy tree… from whence I
grew.
Angelia Vernon Menchan, Author of Womanish