Thursday, February 2, 2012

Not Talking

I meet a woman in my mother's town; I have heard we are related to one another.
She tells me we are related one to another and it feels like deja vue just being in her presence.
There are no common facial features between her and anyone I know in my family.
I make the mistake of asking how this relationship could be and she tells me how many, many, years ago a common ancestor met another common ancestor and they married one another and lay down together and now half the town is related to one another.
Not only that; but she is able to step back through the generations and link all of these unsuspecting dead people with one another from beyond the grave.
This is getting too intimate for me without the benefit of an advocate speaking up for the dead generations, that gave us birth.
I say it is nice to realise we were related to half the town.
This as a preliminary to walking away from the madness of the conversation.
But, she catches my coat and says, in a low warning voice, that we who are related are not speaking to the other half.
I say fair enough and leave her there in the sunshine of her mind.
I'm fairly sure she belongs to the mad side of the family.
Storytelling here

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