"Kidney Stones"
I loved my Aunt Julia with the same white-hot intensity I felt for Donny Osmond. I was her biggest fan. And, unlike Donny — who was only visible in the black and white glossy photos pinned over my headboard and occasionally on TV — I could see Aunt Julia perform in person pretty much whenever I wanted.
Only she wasn’t a singer. She was a storyteller.
The baby of my father’s family, she was the last of the twelve children still living at home with my grandparents. I think I must have been her favorite niece because I was the only one she — soon to be a high school senior — ever invited to sleep over. After the last day of awkward, boring third grade, I gulped down my supper, threw my pajamas and Barbies in a pillowcase and begged Daddy to take me to see Aunt Julia.