"Where did I go?"

My husband's great aunt died on Friday morning.  She was 95 years old and is best remembered by me for these three things.
1. Hosting the most delightful lunch I've ever been to...
2. while serving the worst food ever.
3. Being a prolific letter writer.  She set the bar high.

She lived most of her life with her mother, my husband's Great Grandma Christine.  At this point I can not remember what she did for a profession but I believe she styled hair.  In her later years she moved back to her hometown but before she moved we visited her in the home my husband remembers visiting as a child.

As I said, it was the most delightful of visits.  She possessed an energy, humor and just a glimmer of mischief that is so rare in my husband's gene pool that any amount is gift rather than vice. At one point during our visit she talked about how she kept her mind sharp (she was about 86 when this took place) and demonstrated a "game" she played with herself.

Out of the blue she said to me, "Where did I go?"  ("ah, what do I do with this?" I wondered, trying keep up...my husband had no clue what was up so he was clearly no help.)
"I'm not sure...where are you?"  I offer, (probably using my voice reserved for my parishioners who are on the third go around of the same story.)
"He, he...it is kind of like 'I spy'.  I pretend that I pop into a photo or drawing and wander around thinking about what is happening.  I'm having fun where I am , so guess, where am I?"
"I don't know."
"He, he up there above your head.  Ooops, now I've popped over to that one."

Seriously, this is how it went.  I loved it. She was absolutely delightful.  (and, well, let's be honest, the woman couldn't cook, it really was the worst meal ever.  When I said this to my husband, he replied, "Were you there for that burnt Cornish hen thing?  Yep, that was me, although mine was raw.)

For the next nine years she would be our most reliable source for handwritten letters.  Long, detailed letters about what she was up to--church choir, hair styling at the nursing home, misc. church woman's events, travel to see her younger siblings...on and on.  She remembered our birthdays, she wrote in response to our letters, she sent out Christmas cards and gifts, she sent birth cards and gifts...and then about three years ago the letters began to repeat themselves.  Then about a year ago, they stopped all together.

I had meant to write her time and time again in the last year (although I heard that the mail confused her more than helped and added to her list of people to respond to.)  I thought of her often.

She was a delightful addition to my extended family and I will miss her.  Thankfully, we have shoeboxes full of letters.