The Worst Day of My Life, So Far. {M.A. Harper}

I pondered my memories of Mama’s gallantry during our last hurricane – the cinematic way that she had jollied up my little brother and me once the lights had gone out. We had been too young to be frightened, but not too young to be bored by the enforced early darkness, and she had kept us entertained with ghost stories and marshmallows toasted over sterno. She had shaken out her glorious hair in the light of the candles, and she had shot cap pistols with us, over thr roar of the wind and the rain. The storm made alarming noises, but out beautiful mother had made alarming noise right back at it with Rocky’s six-shooter as she shot at the ceiling, yelling “take that! And that!” in a growly voice that caused us giggling fits.

“For God’s sake, Velma!” Daddy had complained over the bangs and laughter, yet smiled, as Mama shot the hell out of the hurricane for her little kids.

“I’m Annie Oakley!” she had shouted, whirling the cap pistol around one red nail. “I’m Calamity Jane! They don’t make ‘um like me anymore!”

No wonder Daddy loves her.

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