strapped to every chimney.
The other guests were following in a leisurely parade- the women tiptoeing through the gravel in their high heels, the men strolling with their hands in their pockets. Ira brought up the rear between Nat and Jo Ann. He gave no sign of minding this change in plans; or if he had at some earlier point, Maggie had luckily missed it.
"Durwood was wondering if you'd be staying on here," she told Serena. "Any chance you might move back to Baltimore?" "Oh," Serena said, "Baltimore seems so far away by now. Who would I know anymore?" "Me and Ira, for one thing," Maggie said. "Durwood Clegg. The Barley twins." The Barley twins were walking just behind them, clinging to each other's arms. Both wore clip-on sunglasses over their regular glasses.
"Linda has been after me to move to New Jersey," Serena said. "Get an apartment close to her and Jeff." "That would be nice." "Well, I'm not so sure," Serena said. "Seems anytime we spend a few days together I begin to realize we haven't got a thing in common." "But if you lived close by you wouldn't be spending days together," Maggie said. "You'd be dropping in and out. You'd be leaving when the conversation ran down. And besides, you'd see more of your grandchildren." "Oh, well, grandchildren. I've never felt they had all that much to do with me." "You wouldn't say that if someone kept them away from you," Maggie told her.
"How's your grandchild, Maggie?" "I have no idea," Maggie said. "Nobody tells me a thing. And Fiona's getting married again; I found that out purely by accident." "Is that so! Well, it'll be good for Larue to have a man around." "Leroy," Maggie said. "But see, Fiona's true love is still Jesse. She's said as much, in so many words. There's just something gone wrong between them temporarily. It would be a terrible mistake for her to marry someone else! And then poor little Leroy ... oh, I hate to think of all that child has been through. Living in that run-down house, secondhand smoking-" "Smoking! A six-year-old?" "Seven-year-old. But it's her grandmother who smokes." "Well, then," Serena said.
"But it's Leroy's lungs getting coated with tar." "Oh, Maggie, let her go," Serena said. "Let it all go! That's what I say. I was watching Linda's boys this morning, climbing our back fence, and first I thought, Oh-oh, better call them in; they're bound to rip those sissy little suits, and then I thought, Nah, forget it. It's not my affair, I thought. Let them go." "But I don't want to let go," Maggie said. "What kind of talk is that?" "You don't have any choice," Serena told her. She stepped over a branch that lay across their path. "That's what it comes down to in the end, willy-nilly: just pruning and disposing. Why, you've been doing that all along, right? You start shucking off your children from the day you give birth; that's the whole point. A big, big moment is when you can look at them and say, 'Now if I died they could get along without me. I'm free to die,' you say. 'What a relief!' Discard, discard! Throw out the toys in the basement. Move to a smaller house. Menopause delighted me." "Menopause!" Maggie said. "You've been through menopause?" "Gladly," Serena told her.
-"Oh, Serena!" Maggie said, and she stopped short, nearly causing the Barley twins to bump into her.
"Well, goodness," Serena said, "why should that bother you?" "But I remember when we first got our periods," Maggie said. "Remember how we all waited? Remember," she said, turning to the Barley twins, "how that was once the only thing we talked about? Who had started and who had not? What it must feel like? How on earth we'd keep it secret from our husbands when we married?" The Barley twins nodded, smiling. Their eyes were invisible behind their dark glasses.
"And now she's gone and stopped," Maggie told them.
"We haven't stopped," Jeannie Barley caroled.
"She's gone through change of life!" Maggie cried.
"Wonderful; announce it to the world," Serena said. She linked arms
The other guests were following in a leisurely parade- the women tiptoeing through the gravel in their high heels, the men strolling with their hands in their pockets. Ira brought up the rear between Nat and Jo Ann. He gave no sign of minding this change in plans; or if he had at some earlier point, Maggie had luckily missed it.
"Durwood was wondering if you'd be staying on here," she told Serena. "Any chance you might move back to Baltimore?" "Oh," Serena said, "Baltimore seems so far away by now. Who would I know anymore?" "Me and Ira, for one thing," Maggie said. "Durwood Clegg. The Barley twins." The Barley twins were walking just behind them, clinging to each other's arms. Both wore clip-on sunglasses over their regular glasses.
"Linda has been after me to move to New Jersey," Serena said. "Get an apartment close to her and Jeff." "That would be nice." "Well, I'm not so sure," Serena said. "Seems anytime we spend a few days together I begin to realize we haven't got a thing in common." "But if you lived close by you wouldn't be spending days together," Maggie said. "You'd be dropping in and out. You'd be leaving when the conversation ran down. And besides, you'd see more of your grandchildren." "Oh, well, grandchildren. I've never felt they had all that much to do with me." "You wouldn't say that if someone kept them away from you," Maggie told her.
"How's your grandchild, Maggie?" "I have no idea," Maggie said. "Nobody tells me a thing. And Fiona's getting married again; I found that out purely by accident." "Is that so! Well, it'll be good for Larue to have a man around." "Leroy," Maggie said. "But see, Fiona's true love is still Jesse. She's said as much, in so many words. There's just something gone wrong between them temporarily. It would be a terrible mistake for her to marry someone else! And then poor little Leroy ... oh, I hate to think of all that child has been through. Living in that run-down house, secondhand smoking-" "Smoking! A six-year-old?" "Seven-year-old. But it's her grandmother who smokes." "Well, then," Serena said.
"But it's Leroy's lungs getting coated with tar." "Oh, Maggie, let her go," Serena said. "Let it all go! That's what I say. I was watching Linda's boys this morning, climbing our back fence, and first I thought, Oh-oh, better call them in; they're bound to rip those sissy little suits, and then I thought, Nah, forget it. It's not my affair, I thought. Let them go." "But I don't want to let go," Maggie said. "What kind of talk is that?" "You don't have any choice," Serena told her. She stepped over a branch that lay across their path. "That's what it comes down to in the end, willy-nilly: just pruning and disposing. Why, you've been doing that all along, right? You start shucking off your children from the day you give birth; that's the whole point. A big, big moment is when you can look at them and say, 'Now if I died they could get along without me. I'm free to die,' you say. 'What a relief!' Discard, discard! Throw out the toys in the basement. Move to a smaller house. Menopause delighted me." "Menopause!" Maggie said. "You've been through menopause?" "Gladly," Serena told her.
-"Oh, Serena!" Maggie said, and she stopped short, nearly causing the Barley twins to bump into her.
"Well, goodness," Serena said, "why should that bother you?" "But I remember when we first got our periods," Maggie said. "Remember how we all waited? Remember," she said, turning to the Barley twins, "how that was once the only thing we talked about? Who had started and who had not? What it must feel like? How on earth we'd keep it secret from our husbands when we married?" The Barley twins nodded, smiling. Their eyes were invisible behind their dark glasses.
"And now she's gone and stopped," Maggie told them.
"We haven't stopped," Jeannie Barley caroled.
"She's gone through change of life!" Maggie cried.
"Wonderful; announce it to the world," Serena said. She linked arms
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