I know a woman

I know a woman who was as tall as a tree, or at least seemed that way to me when I was a little girl.

I know a woman who knew everything there was to know in all the books in the world, because she worked with CURRICULUM, or at least that's how it seemed when I was a little girl.

I know a woman who loved children, even children who did bad things like take the batteries out of her clocks or not eat all their green beans or talk during the church services at camp meeting, not that I ever did any of that when I was a little girl.

I know a woman who was devoted to her family, especially her little brother, and who was an example to all those that knew her of what faith was and meant.

I know a woman who was a breast cancer survivor.

She was the same woman that let me walk behind her while she picked beans out of the garden, feeding me one or two raw because I wanted to know what they tasted like without cooking. She was the same woman that made me purple cows to drink (Welch's grape juice and milk with a dash of vanilla ice cream, don't knock it till you've tried it!), and always remembered that I was the one that liked apple pie while my sister was the one that liked pumpkin pie.

I know a woman who had strong hands that would gently hold my tiny little girl's fingers in hers. I remember tracing the outline of the logo on her signet ring, and thinking when I got my own Maryville College ring that it made my hands look a lot like hers...only not so strong.

I know a woman that was stubborn, independent, and is now free. She's free of a body that wasn't working as it should. She's free of worry. She's free of pain.

I knew a woman, and she was my father's sister, my grandmother's daughter, my mother's sister-in-law, and my aunt. I love you, Aunt Inez and while my heart is breaking for losing you it is also singing that I got the chance to know you, learn from you, and be loved by you.

It's just turned dark here in San Francisco, so I'll look for your new star in the night sky.