Living Proof
Roger McKnight
“Why heavens, I had to prove I was me,” Louisa Jackson complained to Tom and Janet. “All the way back to Lebanon P - A. That’s where I was born, in Dutch country, and that’s where they had to send for my birth certificate.” As her son and daughter-in-law shivered with folded arms on the sofa opposite her, Louisa sat in a reclining easy chair and reminisced in comfort about the old days over the steady whirr of her window AC unit.
Janet had just come from grocery shopping for Louisa, and Tom followed along to fix his mother’s air vents, where the squirrels kept trying to get in and sometimes succeeded. As it turned out, Louisa had forgotten about the marauding varmints today. And so, only partly listening to her tale of missing courthouse records, Tom stared a
