It was my first visit to Aunt Lily’s. I didn’t know she existed until a week ago. It took ages to find the place, and I ducked desperately into the bathroom almost the moment I arrived. There was a home-made sign on the bathroom wall: Godesses Have Hips. Next to it was a framed photo of the Venus de Milo, armless and not particularly hippy, either.
Aunt Lily waited in the living room, thin and defintely not hippy herself. She offered me some iced tea, “Now that you’ve drained,” and plucked nervously at the hem of her shirt. . . .