Chapter 3… The Chinandegan magpies
“But I don´t remember any aunties with such strange names; did they die already?”
“They´re dead all right, you can be sure of that!” he replied with a huge grin. “Look, this happened when I was around seven years old. Miss Clarissa, at the time, was probably close to ninety. She was the eldest of the three, which goes without saying.”
“Wow, they were really old, don´t you think, Grandfather?”
“Old? That’s certainly the understatement of the year, honey chile!” he answered with a nice long chuckle. “It´s true those hens wouldn’t cook at first boil! Fact is, when I was a kid, back then, like you are today, we didn´t have to hurry for anything. No one was in a hurry. Why we hadn´t even heard the word! Least of all, nobody was in a hurry to die, especially the magpies. They had forgotten it was their turn to get up and die and make some room for the next.” As he answered, I noticed he was thoughtful. Suddenly, he brightened, as he spoke enthusiastically.