Pearl

Sitting on a park bench and taking in the sights, she's always got an eye out for the children, running back and forth 'til they are wired, while pestering their parents - "Come on, Momma, we're not tired." They cluster all around her, they call her 'Auntie Pearl,' to listen to her stories of when she was just a girl; tales of pinafores and mittens, lovely hats for Sunday best, patent leather shoes and stockings, turning out so smartly dressed. There were picnics and fun times out by the river when they'd walk two miles or more learning their rhymes. Riding in a carriage pulled by horses up and down the street, calling at a neighbour's house - there'd always be a treat. Taking presents to the homeless the day after Christmas Day, helping those who didn't have much food to eat, or games to play. She told them, "Listen to your folks, try to grow up big and strong, help others when you have the chance, your lives will be full and long." One Saturday she didn't come to take her usual seat. The kids all clamoured: "Where's Aunt Pearl?" she made their day complete. Moms said: "She's telling stories to the angels now, it's true. She loves you all, remember, she's still watching over you."