My mom called a little while ago. She called yesterday but I wasn't here.

My aunt Lucille died Friday night. She was 94. She was ready to go and said as much to several people. It had only been a few days since we heard that she had simply quit eating (which probably was no big thing to her ~ she hardly ate much at all when things were going well) and had signed a living will specifying that nothing be done to keep her alive.

I actually hadn't seen her in years. She moved in with her son when she proved to be too frail (and, let's face it, deaf) to live on her own anymore. That was several hours away in Crossville.

What I remember is going to her little house in Hartsville on warm summer afternoons and spending time searching for the tiny little wild strawberries in her yard while she and my mom caught up on who done what; married and had a kid. I vaguely remember her husband ~ my uncle ~ who had owned a restaurant in town. I remember that no matter what, she would always make sure we were comfortable before going to put on her 'visiting' dress; fix her hair and put on her makeup. She had to be presentable for company, you know.

What I remember is that she was always the picture of elegance and that she would always have a treat for me, whether it was a sprite or a fresh peach. I remember the peaches the most.

So, save me a peach and I will see you in a little while, Aunt Lucille. I think wherever it is that we go when our tour is over here is going to be a good deal classier now that you're there.