Aunt Holly Volley

Articles

Holly Winter
Living The Life Of Holly

Aunt Holly Volley
Apr. 10, 2003

The creak of my door. Three steps. A pause. Then the four-year-old-flying-Kyle-wake-up-belly-flop onto my air mattress.

“Good morning Aunt Holly” He said, covering me with wake up kisses.

“Morning.”

“Are you awake, or should I do it again?” He offered.

“I’m not sure.” I said, tickling him.

My sister greeted me with the usual. “Would you like an omelet for breakfast?”

“Sure would. Am I correct in guessing that I am cooking for everyone?”

“I’m helping.” Kyle yelled, pulling out the cheese.

I was cuddling with Kyle watching cartoons in the sun when the first phone call came. The Aunt Holly Volley had started.

My first stop was my cousin’s house. I had happily watched as he married my best friend from college years ago. Now I get to visit her and call it a family visit at the same time. I know. What incredible luck.

Her older daughter wanted to read her homework book to me.

Her mom cut in. “Mom wants to hear this one too.”

“No Mom. I want to read to Aunt Holly. I never get to read to her.”

Her mom gave me a look. “She might need some help with this book.”

I was undaunted. “I think that I know most of the words in that Kindergarten book.”

Her mom showed me the note from the teacher. It said that older had a tough time with the book. That it was very challenging for her. I was surprised. So was her mom. Older reads at a first grade level. This should be an easy book for her.

We sat on the couch with older between us. Her mom and I were tense with arms and legs folded and crossed. We had stopped breathing.

Her mom spoke. “Honey. Take your time with the words.”

Older read word for word. She self-corrected. She read slowly. She sounded out the words she didn’t know. She consulted the pictures for clues. She didn’t miss any words in the book. Her mom and I exchanged shrugs over older’s head.

“Challenging?” Her mom mouthed to me.

“Tough time?” I mouthed back.

I continued the Aunt Holly Volley and visited with my Uncle Rudy and Aunt Mary while they played in their jewelry workshop. Aunt Mary showed me the paper plate she had designed for the Dixie Paper Plate Company. The design has some amazing red flowers that looked a bit like they were going to eat you alive. They were surrounded by a turquoise band that was surrounded by some little spicy chili peppers. (I could imagine putting, maybe, scrambled eggs in one corner. Anything more would take away from the design.)

“The prize would be ten thousand dollars. Can you imagine that?” She asked, while banging out a thousand dollar bracelet, her normal ware.

“Mary. You are not going to win. They make little pleasant plates for potato salad. Stop spending the money. You are not going to win.” Uncle Rudy insisted as he plunked a pair of silver earrings into a little bag and threw it into the finished basket.

“Yeah.” Aunt Mary admitted. “But wouldn’t it be cool if I did?”

After a short visit my Aunt Holly Volley continued as I went to my brother’s for dinner. While he cooked my niece helped me write my column, Chores by Candlelight.

“Aunt Holly, I love the part about the diamonds, but take out the part about the match.”

“No way. I love the part about the match.” I said.

“But that isn’t funny.” She wrinkled her nose.

“Well. Maybe when you get out of fifth grade it will be funny.” I said.

My nephew played with my camera and took photo after photo of him and a friend snowboarding off the smallest jump you have ever seen. I looked at the photos. Lots of pictures of trees.

“Hey guys. Maybe next time you can get some faces?”

“Yeah.” My nephew complained. “He kept missing me completely.”

I let my brother know that his separation has been good for his cooking skills. He accepted the compliment and passed around the homemade bread.

I headed home to my sister’s and we worked till late at night polishing the column. We heard a rustling in the kitchen.

“Hey.” She whispered. “Kyle is up. He is trying sneak potato chips.”

She snuck into the kitchen to catch him.

Her voice was shaking. “It isn’t Kyle.” She threw a shoe. “It’s a mouse.”

Being that we are two tough country girls, we do the only logical thing. We woke her husband.

I make him stand next to me so that I could submit my finished column via the internet without getting attacked by the killer potato chip craving mice.

And. Then. When the house was quiet again, my sister and I sat huddled on the couch at the end of a very long day. You see. By eating every last potato chip that was in the house, we were essentially pushing the mice towards the neighbor’s houses where there were surely much better treats.

I know. There is no end to the good that an Aunt Holly visit will bring.

About the author: Holly Winter is a teacher and a writer and a flight attendant living in Denver, Colorado, USA. She can be reached at her website or email: Holly@livingthelifeofholly.com

------------

Comment on this column in the forum.
------------