We were not impressed by her until she pulled out her shotgun during our impromptu visit.“Is that woman still alive !?” Father yelled when we told him about the incident later that day. “I’d have married her if it wasn’t for your mother”, he said.
We took him along with us the next time we went to the farm, along with an assortment of firearms in the boot of the car. There was a different mood in the air this time. The fight seemed to have gone out of the place entirely. There was no longer any palpable threat in the air, no buzzing of cicadas in the woods or screeching of birds above our heads. Everything life-affirming had gone quiet.
“Your family’s timing is impeccable”, someone said as we arrived. “She died this morning. We’re making preparations for the funeral.”
Father, feeling his volatile emotions stir in response to the statement, turned to give us an accusing look and shouted dramatically,
“If it wasn’t for your mother, I’d have been standing right there on that front porch, at my wife’s funeral !”
“How many wives’ funerals do you need to attend as a husband in one lifetime !?”
I shouted back. My siblings nodded collectively, knowing perfectly well what had happened to our mother.
Photo from Resplash by Josh Hild