Last Friday I recieved a call, one that everyone dreads. At 3:30 in the morning, my aunt called to say her sister died. It was so unexpected that I was too stunned and could not figure out why this had to happen my aunt Angela.
While at work, my mind recalled our teen years together. I laughed at the times when we, along with her other two sisters, pretended to be Diana Ross and the Supremes. Each of us would take turns at the broomstick/microphone and sing lead to their most popular songs.
But there is one thing that will always remind me of Angie, as we use to call her. She loved to read. As a teenager, she would devour books like a rat in a cheese factory. She could never get enough. It always surprised me that she chose books over dating. I would find her sprawled across her twin bed, paperback in one hand as other books, stacked on the floor, awaited their turn. One book in particular, The Thorn Birds, captured her attention to such a degree that she finished it in less than 48 hours.
I will never forget the expression on her face as she sat on the couch and read while eliminating all the noise and activity around her. Such concentration and love for reading.
I plan to dedicate my next book to aunt Angela. It will be my way to thank her for opening my eyes and heart to the world of great escapes through storytelling.