The Spaces Between Your Fingers

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We visited a meeting of a Multiple Sclerosis support group, and Desmond told us his story. Anita Warner, a member of the group illustrated all of their stories.

Every summer, my family and I would visit Aunt Brownie at her farm in Hiltonia, Georgia; the smallest town in the whole world. When we drove out of the city, there were no signs and no stores, only dirt roads. I knew we were getting close when everyone’s cell phone had no service. It was always really hot and the bugs were ridiculous. Her little pale green house was surrounded by her huge farm; we could always hear chickens clucking in the back yard. I loved visiting Aunt Brownie because she was really calm and nice. She wasn’t loud like the rest of my family. When she walked into the room, everyone knew to quiet down. I’ll never forget what she looks like. She was short with short, curly hair. It’s hard to say whether it was brown or dark blonde. Her skin was the color of cinnamon and she was heavy-set and wore glasses over her round eyes. 

I’ll never forget Aunt Brownie’s cooking either. One night, my family gathered around the table and ate chicken, green beans, roasted potatoes and homemade bread. It was delicious! The whole family loved her cooking. 

The next morning, we went out to feed the chickens and there was only one left. I remember asking where all the chickens went and Aunt Brownie said “we ate them last night”. I was traumatized and I couldn’t eat chicken again for a year. 

Aunt Brownie’s Farm

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