Helen Lloyd


I always thought it a bit odd,
to have an aunt that
dressed and behaved like a child.
in many aspects she was a
fully grown,mature,and competent woman,
who could plow a field
with strength on
par with any man;
who fed the chickens
(and the goats)
from the trough.
Barbara even had her monthly
though she never learned how to read,
or how to write.

she lived in supremely, pink sweatpants that
vaguely resembled wads of
sugar-laden cotton candy,
and gaudy holiday sweaters.
she had a lisp
whenever she spoke,
and a mouth full of
monstrous fangs
that looked as if they could belong to none other than the
Cyclops himself!

she lived with my grandmother,
and every time I paid a visit I was
instructed to play with
with my father’s sister.
or,Grandmother would say:
“do you want to have a
slumber party with your
Aunt Barbara?”.

in a room overwhelmed by
purple drapes and
wall-to-wall shelving,
every square inch was
occupied by the overtly,
sweet smiles of stuffed
staring down at me.
naturally, I was mortified.

as the years passed,
I gradually came to accept
having an aunt that I did not have to address as:
who was more like a younger cousin than an
aunt at all;
who, try as we might,
would never change...
and maybe it’s better that way.

Helen Lloyd was born in Colorado. She currently lives among the fairies in a magical garden somewhere in Maryland. When she is not busy writing, Helen spends most of her free time either at the theater, watching movies,with friends/family,trying ethnic cuisine,or learning foreign languages.