Chocolate sampler from "Chocolate for a Woman’s Blessings"

Made for Water
by Luci N. Fuller

Mom took me to my Aunt Marilyn’s house to be watched while she went to work. I was afraid of that woman, who was larger than anyone is ever supposed to be, and I cried the entire way, every day, down the cracked narrow sidewalk to her house. The wind blew hard on my face, pushing me back. My mother pressed on, dragging me by the hand—around the corner, past the church on the left, and straight up to my aunt’s front door.

My mother knocked, and I hid behind her. Aunt Marilyn’s slow, heavy steps vibrated under my feet as I heard her coming to the door: thud, thud, thud—like the dinosaur in Jurassic Park. The door swung open and my aunt’s pungent aroma—a unique, acidic scent—rushed out. That’s the way you smell when you’re fat, I thought. The smell rushed out the door and into my nose, but it didn’t stop there. It wrapped itself around my body, grabbed me, and pulled me inside her house.

A talented artist, she spent much of her time in front of an easel. While she skillfully placed thick, luxuriant layers of paint onto her canvas, I contemplated her unique features. She had long black hair that almost reached her waist and enormous round feet. She was barefoot most of the time because they don’t make shoes that big. Her paintings depicted vivid landscapes, full of texture and life. How does she know how to paint them? I wondered. Had she ever been that far from her weary kitchen chair?

At lunchtime, we often ate giant cheese sandwiches toasted golden brown. I watched in fascination as the orange ribbon stretched out between the chunk in my mouth and the chunk in my hand. My throat felt tight. I ate small, timid bites. I knew food like that made you fat—then you smelled, and had to go barefoot, and had to wear skirts you sewed yourself—because they don’t make skirts that big. My fear of the woman was nothing compared to my fear of becoming her. I tried to hide it, but the way she looked at me, I think she knew.

Sometimes, I went to the bathroom out of boredom. I lounged on the toilet and stared into the stained porcelain bowl, my thighs flattened out against the cold rim. I estimated that each thigh was as big around as one of Aunt Marilyn’s wrists, and I sat upright in horror. If one of Aunt Marilyn’s thighs was as big around as my whole body, then how could she fit onto the toilet? I eyed the free-standing bathtub: no way could she wedge her coagulated mass into that! Could she even fit through the narrow doorway? I ran from the room in terror.

On hot summer days, my mother and my aunt took all of us cousins out to Ash Lake for a day of swimming and picnicking. I couldn’t swim yet, but I liked to pretend I could. I propelled myself through the water by pushing off the muddy lake bottom as each arm-stroke completed its downward motion through the water. I kicked, splashed, and basked in the sun-warmed shallows while the other children swam, and our mothers relaxed on the shore, talking.

It was there, amidst the sounds of conversation and laughter that I found out the truth about Aunt Marilyn.

Aunt Marilyn stood up and began to wade out into the lake. The water parted behind her in a wide V, and she walked slowly, resolutely, placing each step firmly on the muddy lake floor. She was thigh-high in the water, but she didn’t stop there. She plodded on, past where I could reach the bottom, out to where the water reached the exact middle of her body. Her colossal skirt billowed above the water like a hot air balloon preparing for lift-off. I looked wildly around me, marveling that no one tried to stop her. Aunt Marilyn was in imminent danger, but no one else seemed to notice the sudden chill in the air.

Aunt Marilyn smoothed her skirt down into the murky water. She leaned back, kicked up her elephantine feet, and floated.

Aunt Marilyn floated!

Goose bumps covered my arms and shoulders. No way to pee, no way to bathe, no shoes to wear; yet my Aunt Marilyn could float better than anyone I’d ever seen. Her body barely immersed, she rose above the water like a majestic, fleshy ship. A rare smile rested on her face as she drifted effortlessly around the lake, finally at home.

I realized then that Aunt Marilyn was not made for land; she was made for water.

She stayed out there for hours while the rest of us played near the shore. I scanned the lake often and each time I would find her floating in a patch of sunlight with the smooth water cradling her body. The beauty of that sight transformed me. Gazing at my aunt, I felt that all was right in the world. I was warm, and safe. I knew where I belonged.

When the sun had lowered in the sky, Aunt Marilyn returned to us begrudgingly. She forced her mass through the reluctant water. Each step thudded down into the mud, which formed a suction around her feet, begging her to stay. Somehow, she dragged herself out onto the land, where she weighed more than anyone is ever supposed to weigh. She came out of the water, and the water came with her—gallons of it ran off her skirt as she gathered it into her powerful hands and wrung it out.

Aunt Marilyn looked up and saw me staring at her. Her large, sad eyes bore into mine, and I noticed for the first time how beautiful they were. Her eyes were the color of the sky, softened by a layer of thin, wispy clouds. I swallowed hard, overwhelmed by the strangeness of my new understanding, and I continued to stare reverently at that captivating creature who belonged to the water. I shook with admiration, no longer awed by her size--but awed by her strength. The way she looked at me: I think she knew.

Aunt Marilyn let me see one lonely tear trek its way down her weathered cheek. One tear and that was all. Then she took my hand and together we walked back to the station wagon. Her soft hand tenderly encircled mine; I was grateful for its warmth.

If I could travel back in time, I would do one thing differently. I’d take a ride around Ash Lake with my aunt—the way the others kids remember doing. Perched lightly on top of her belly, I’m quite sure I could have shouted with absolute authority, "We are the Queens of the World!"