My telling the world of how I was carrying on with our mother after she died has my sisters on edge.
“People are going to get the wrong impression.”
Relax, they already have the wrong impression of me.
Anyway, all I’ve repeated are some of the conversations mother and I had while I was in custody of her ashes. What’s the harm in that?
Whatever I reveal, my sisters warned me. “Keep the family secrets to a minimum.”
Well, we really didn’t have much for family secrets; no homicides, abductions, runaway brides or bank robberies gone bad. No children born out of wedlock. We moved a lot from town to town. Shiftless white people, that’s who we were.
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