Aunt Lee will be visiting Astoria, Oregon to potentially live out her final years. As my great-grand aunt, she is the last living sibling of my great grandfather. I will say farewell to her and hope that she becomes a permanent member of our family. Before she departs, she will reach into her purse and gift me an Andes mint, those delightful treats wrapped in shiny green foil.
Aunt Lee will make the decision to sell her house in California and relocate to Astoria. She will initially consider living in an assisted facility, but quickly dismiss the idea with a joke, saying "Everyone is too old". At ninety years young, she will still cherish her independence. Eventually, she will stumble upon the perfect apartment: nestled at the foothills of downtown Astoria, a stunning mid-century modern building surrounded by charming Victorian homes.
Her apartment will become a testament to her travels, adorned with exotic Chinese art and rugs from her adventures. The scent of sweet incense will fill the air, creating a tranquil atmosphere in the space. She will reign as the queen of Andes mints, always keeping them stocked in every corner of her apartment for us grand nieces and nephews to indulge in. With her energetic and graceful demeanor, she will seem like a character straight out of a vintage silver screen. She will make maintaining her glamorous image a priority and will visit the hair salon every month without fail. In no time at all, Aunt Lee will become a familiar face in the bustling downtown core.
She will have a natural talent for selecting the ultimate gifts, such as the latest Nintendo game. Since she doesn’t have kids of her own, she will be excessively generous with her gifts towards us nieces and nephews. On my twelfth birthday, Aunt Lee will give me a unique present: a certificate stating that a brick with my name engraved on it will be placed at the base of the Astor Column. The Astor Column is a monument that overlooks the city but will be in desperate need of repair. The city will come up with a clever way to raise funds by selling personalized bricks - a lasting declaration minted in stone. As a boy, I won't fully comprehend the significance of this gift; to me, it will pale in comparison to her Nintendo games.
One of the first things I will do after I receive my driver's license will be to drive to Aunt Lee’s apartment to share the news that I have passed my test. She will welcome me with a graceful smile and will be dressed in a luxurious silk kimono. Her matching satin slippers will have beautiful floral embroidery that matches the pattern of her robe. Her emerald eyes will glow, but she will seem fragile and weaker than usual. Her usually immaculately styled hair will be disheveled. She will mistake me for my father and offer me a beer. I will drink it while I eat Andes mints.
This will mark the beginning of Aunt Lee's decline in both her mental acuity and physical health. At the ripe age of ninety-eight, a fall will force her to abandon her independent way of life and relocate to assisted living. Despite its modest proportions and lack of opulence, her new studio apartment will exude her timeless charm and refined taste. She will pass away only three months before reaching her one-hundredth birthday.
Years will pass and I will be living far from Astoria. Aunt Lee will become a distant memory. During a trip back to Astoria, I will drive to the spot where the Astor Column towers over the city. I will gaze out at the stunning view and be overcome with nostalgia. Looking towards the brick pathway surrounding the base of the column, memories will flood back of those who helped fund its restoration, their names etched into each brick. I will examine the bricks and eventually find my own name minted in stone. Turning to walk back to my car, I will notice a green shiny foil wrapper wedged under the windshield wiper.