The aunts sat in a row along one side of the table, as they always sat. They were all dressed in their now second best dresses, since each one of them had bought a new best dress for the wedding. The exalted mother of the bride had bought a new dress for this party too.
“Hey Susan, stand up, give us a twirl,” Pauline called out, reaching across the table to grab the plate of meatballs. She could never pass up a meatball. At least that’s what Grandad said and we all knew he was talking about Uncle Dennis.
“Oh Pauline, never mind my dress. Tonight’s about Hannah.” Susan gestured across the table with her serving spoon at my gurning sister. “Isn’t that right, darling?”
Hannah grinned on, but said nothing.
“Oh come on Sue,” Carol said. “We all know the effort you went to, laying off the booze to fit in to the damn thing. You’ve been a whinge bag on lettuce for months.”
(Hmm. Interesting. This prompt came from a photograph, and I found it incredibly difficult to even know how to start. I don’t think this is entirely a result of still feeling rusty (though I do), or even being tired for various reasons (though I am incredibly tired). I think this is the result of the medium. I write. With words. A word prompt will provoke a number of responses in my imagination and I choose which one I like the look of, and set off. The photograph was fixed, the people there in it, giving me no leeway. Possibly too Oulipo this early in the regeneration. It’ll be interesting to see if this family group hangs around in my head and reappears later though.)
