![]() ![]() I am seven she is sixty-something, We are cousins, very distant ones, and we have lived together-well, as long as I can remember. The person to whom she is speaking is myself. "Oh my," she exclaims, her breath smoking the windowpane, "it's fruitcake weather!" Her face is remarkable-not unlike Lincoln's, craggy like that, and tinted by sun and wind but it is delicate too, finely boned, and her eyes are sherry-colored and timid. She is small and sprightly, like a bantam hen but, due to a long youthful illness, her shoulders are pitifully hunched. ![]() She is wearing tennis shoes and a shapeless gray sweater over a summery calico dress. Just today the fireplace commenced its seasonal roar.Ī woman with shorn white hair is standing at the kitchen window. ![]() A great black stove is its main feature but there is also a big round table and a fireplace with two rocking chairs placed in front of it. Consider the kitchen of a spreading old house in a country town. ![]() A coming of winter morning more than twenty years ago. please also click on the above image to download an abridged version of the story read by truman capote himself, via this american life episode #255. it's a truly wonderful short story and the first time i read it i was absolutely floored. Here i am going to post the full text of my favorite christmas story, a christmas memory by truman capote. ![]()
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