Memory by Lisa Lipshires Dec 23, 2016 My first memory of my Aunt Nancy was when she came to visit my parents and me in New Britain, Connecticut. I must have been a very young child. I don't remember why I was doing this, but I was taking a bath in my little friend Jackie's bathtub, when Nancy blew into the room, fresh from California. I remember being stunned by her vividness, her air of foreign sophistication, and her color.
Her hair was a spicy, reddish brown, her lips were limned in tangerine lipstick, and colorful earrings dangled from her ears. Her face was tan, and her eyes crinkled at the corners when she gave me a smile and a big kiss hello. I think she was wearing a brightly woven Mexican shawl or serape of some kind.
Nancy swept out just as quickly as she had swept in, telling me she would see me back at my parents� house. I was agog with anticipation, wanting to see more of this aunt who seemed to come from a world more colorful and vivid than my own.
