Feisty Little Thing

Feisty Little Thing She was a small little thing. Looking at her, anybody would think she had no strength, that she was frail and helpless. She was a short little old lady, no more than 5 feet. When I embraced her, I thought her bones would break. She wore worn out black moccasin shoes. She wore the same shoes until she died. Her thick medium brown stockings were washed by hand nearly every day. In the summer, she wore a sleeveless shift dress, with a blue apron tied around her waist. She was a cook who did not need recipes. The kitchen and my Tia were best friends.


One Response to “Feisty Little Thing”

  1. alex Says:

    lovely remembrance

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