In a previous post, I incorrectly identified my Uncle John as the eldest of thirteen kids. John is the oldest son, but my Aunt Emma trumps The J.
When I think of Emma, the first thing that comes to mind is the fact she loves to dance. Emma has always had a love for music and if there’s music playing somewhere, Emma is the first one on the dance floor. Something tells me she’s also probably one of the last to leave.
Emma’s radio is usually tuned in to the Spanish station and she knows the dance for each song. Emma once tried teaching me the dancing she does and I’m just not coordinated enough. I prefer to just wobble my legs around at random intervals.
I love to make Emma laugh, especially if I know it’s something that will really catch her off guard if I say it. Her eyes get really big and then she gets this ‘Shame on you’ look and always says, “Oh, Eddieeee….” And then she starts laughing. I assume her sons Evvy and Bobby probably know that look – and that laugh – well.
Not only has Emma always been very warm and welcoming (she always asks how my Mom is), she’s an amazing cook. When I was living in Indiana and working with my Dad, I would drive over to their place in the morning (Dad and Emma were both living with Grandma at the time to help look after her) and often times we would get a late start out the door because Emma would be up cooking breakfast and she always made enough for “the boys.” Emma also makes homemade tamales that are hands-down the best I’ve ever had, anywhere.
Emma’s always got a twinkle in her eye. The twinkle, I believe, is there because she’s about to laugh. Or dance.