After Sam passed, most of the remaining four kids grew up to marry and start their own families. Melville and Nell’d been married a good 59 years before he died. She was 77 then, and still spry—truth be known, she was still pretty spry at 95—and had elected to stay in the little two-story farm house after Melville passed. It’d been good enough for the two of them and all the kids, so Nell figured it was good enough for her widowhood and old age until the Good Lord called her home. Besides, not all the kids had moved out of the area; there were still some close by.
Sue, the oldest girl, went off to college in Ohio and found a Yankee boy to marry. He was a general contractor and they lived down in Florida. Had a bunch of kids, six as she remembered, all grown up themselves now, and most with kids of their own. Hard to keep track of the grandchildren, much less the great-grandchildren. Then came Sam; he had his accident at age 17 and that was that. The two other girls, Frances and Billie, were next. Frances was married and lived down in Houston with her husband, a banker; they had two kids, also grown. Frances’ little sister Billie had gone up to Oklahoma when she’d left to go to college—kind of like going back home, Nell’d thought—and was now a big executive for an insurance company. She’d never married, for whatever reason, and never seemed inclined to be so. Everyone to their own, thought Nell, and loved her just the same as all the rest, grandchildren or none. Edward, their other boy, came along last. He was the baby. A little surprise package, Nell remembered, delivered directly from God to me and Melville. Edward and his wife of many years, Cherise, now lived two towns over from Hardell. Their three kids had grown up and gone off to college and what-not. One of them, Nell’s granddaughter Amy, came back to Texas and lived with her husband Calhoun Pickens and their two kids just one town over. The other two by Edward and Cherise were a boy named Roy, he was first. Then came Amy, and the last was Jamie, their baby girl.
Jamie had gone off to college in California…on a volleyball scholarship of all things. Stanford, in fact. Nell smiled to herself. Jamie’d been diligent to a fault. She not only stayed in touch with her mom and dad and called them like she should, but she also called Nell, even from way out in California. Nell would never admit it—call you a liar if you said so—but Jamie was really her favorite of all the grandkids. Not that she hadn’t worried about Jamie once upon a time: The girl had gotten attached to a young fellow in college and brought him home for a visit.
Nell’d thought he looked like a plain fool, all covered with tattoos and such.
Algerine Onyx is the nom de plume of an alien "transitioned intelligence" that decided to become a "storyteller-for-humans." Originally of the species "Achron," Onyx is one of several hundred such entities currently loose on earth. To find out more about the author and its original species, the Achrons, read its first book "Achron Kindness" (available on Amazon).