Gemotions

My Aunt Susan, famed for her love of knitting and sensible shoes, was now embracing the Rastafarian faith. She stood before us, dreadlocks – admittedly, a wig – cascading down her shoulders. A faint giggle escaped me.

"Jah bless!" she intoned, offering me a plate of what looked suspiciously like pot brownies. My shoulders shook imperceptibly. The whole room seemed to shimmer.

"So, no more orthopedic footwear?" I asked, struggling to maintain a straight face. The image of Aunt Susan, a vision of liberation, had me nearly doubled over. The sheer incongruity of it all was exhilarating.