eternal august.

When I was a little girl (my sister's a year and a half older than I am) and we were playing on the floor of our house during a time when- I think I was three and she was four- when my great great grandmother had moved from Flint, MI to our little town in Ohio to visit several relatives. She was understood to be a legend. She was a very, very sought after midwife, and the first time I ever saw this in my life was when she walked into a room and all the men stood up. Anyway, she came to our house at some point. She came in and greeted my mother, and then she looked over at me and my sister and said, 'Those children have been tampered with.' [...] She- my great great grandmother- was pitch black, the blackest woman I'd ever seen, and what she meant was we were not pure, we had been sullied. Now, it may occur to you that I've been writing about this forever.