Red Dirt Girl

About twenty minutes into my shift my phone rang.  Sir.  Had to take all my gear off and by the time I had the call had ended.  Voice mail.  Which I never check.  Called back.  "Hello?"  "Sir?"  "Hello, son.  I just thought you'd want to know that sis died this morning."  "Aunt Betty?"  "Yes, just thought you'd want to know."  Aunty Betty, eldest of seven children and the sister of six brothers - dead.  She'd always called me heartbreaker.  Hey, heartbreaker, how many you done broke since the last time I seen you?  Yeah, she was born in a red dirt town in Alabama and died there.  When my fiance left me she'd said, So, the heartbreaker done got his own heart broken.  Yeah, that was Aunt Betty.  Kind, gentle.  But never had she ever hesitated to speak her word.  She'd kick my butt till hell wouldn't have it again.  I was a pall bearer at her husband's funeral.  Now I will make a trip to red dirt Alabama to bear her coffin.  Never known women to be pall bearers.  Does that happen?  In my experience it's the men who bear the physical burden of death.  Anyway.  Goodbye, Aunt Betty.  And, yeah, I'm still breaking hearts.