The Whole Damn Dessert

I visited Mom one summer when she was in her 60's, about the age I am now. Mom wanted me to go with her to visit Edna, her older sister, who lived 90 miles away.

Aunt Edna was a pill. When we told her we were coming, she said irritably, "Don't expect me to give you lunch. I have nothing in the house!"

Mom replied, "We don't expect lunch, but we'll bring you a nice dessert."

Mom made a concoction typical of the 1970's: instant pudding on a graham-cracker crust, topped with a cloud of Cool Whip.

Aunt Edna and I were chatting in the living room while Mom was in the kitchen, getting ready to serve the dessert. "You don't suppose she's going to give a piece to Helen Ferguson, do you?" Aunt Edna asked. Helen had been Edna's next door neighbor for at least 40 years. Aunt Edna was always feuding with someone. She hadn't spoken to Helen for months because of an incident involving a dog and some dug-up tulips.

Before I could answer, Mom flew into the room in righteous fury, a Cool Whip-laden spatula in hand. She shook it at her sister furiously. "If I want to give the whole damn dessert to Helen Ferguson, I will!" she raged, and flew back to the kitchen before Aunt Edna could say a word.

There was a moment of stunned silence. Aunt Edna turned to me and arched her eyebrows. "Well!" she exclaimed.