Love and memories are sometimes concealed in dirt

<p>My Aunt Shirley once sent me a box of dirt. I was in fifth grade and it felt like receiving the Hope Diamond.</p><p>The parcel, postmarked from Austin, Texas, was addressed to Janny Hommel and I still remember the excitement as I carefully cut through the packing tape to reveal the container of carefully packaged red, clay soil. A handwritten note was enclosed.</p><p>Dear Janny, I hope this helps you with your science fair project – I have included a few extra items for you. Love, Aunt Shirley.</p><p>My aunt’s love disguised in a box of dirt made me feel quite special. I was thinking about the “Aunt effect” after my daughter Phoebe and I took four of her cousins to the apple orchard during fall break. After partaking in cider slushies and warm fried biscuits dipped in fresh apple butter, we sat outside at a picnic table and talked. I don’t remember what we talked about except laughing about a Peppa Pig video when she’s trying to learn to whistle and hangs up on Suzy Sheep. (Go ahead and YouTube it!)</p><p>After watching Reagan, Eli, Isaac, Drew and Phoebe each choose and weigh their favorite personal pumpkin we loaded 148 pounds of pumpkins into our van. Sixth-grader Eli volunteered to pull the pumpkin wagon from the parking lot back to the loading area and we told him we’d drive up to pick him up. (This is where an aunt hopes her nieces and nephews remember the ‘good appropriate memories.’)</p><p>As we pulled up to pick up Eli, because it is highly offensive to your younger brother if you borrow four of his children and only return three…my daughter Phoebe, 22, rolled down her window and using a “creepy deep voice: said: “Little boy, we have candy if you want to get in our van!”</p><p>As Eli walked to the van smiling, to my horror I saw great concern on the face of an astute young mom who was standing near Eli — and quickly pointed this fact out to my daughter, who obviously gets her dark humor from my husband’s side of the family. Realizing her mistake, Phoebe quickly addressed this young mom and great citizen: “Ma’am, sorry — he’s my cousin, I promise!” She sighed and smiled in great relief. I heard giggles from Eli’s siblings in the back of the van.</p><p>We watched &quot;The Borrowers&quot; movie, ate pizza, took turns typing on a 1948 Smith-Corona and played golf cart hide and seek until dark. When I delivered them safely home, you know which memory they shared with their mom and dad.</p><p>I think I might mail them a box of dirt.</p>