“At last, the relative had left and – as with most promised things in life – there was no soaring joy accompanying the event.”
Aunt Jean lived in a sprawling house in the country with a large tree in the front yard. I asked her what kind of tree it was and she said it was “Eucalyptus Paininthearses”. My aunt was a blunt sort of woman. “It dropped branches on a whim,” she said.
She told us to stay away when the wind blew for fear a branch would drop on our heads. Her Uncle Lew had planted the thing forty years earlier thinking he was doing the family a favour. It was cute for a while but kept on growing, out of control.
She didn’t like visitors much especially the relatives. They were nosey, and couldn’t help but share their opinions on most things she didn’t care a rats about. She counted the minutes until they left; glad when they did as she grew to like her solitude, just her and the tree.