Merta Lee Breakwater was a little woman, and truly "undergrown" for her age. That's for sure, and no doubt about it! My Scottish grandmother would say, "Sure, and she's a least little wallydrag". I heard that Lee Breakwater (Merta Lee's father), was quite a wee little man himself, although I never met him. Grandpa called Merta Lee the runt of the litter, and so I decided "runt" sounded more fit and proper than a wallydrag. Now, I'm not saying she would fit through a keyhole, mind you! But you see, she ate food like a pigeon, oh, scarcely a smidgen! Her shoes were quite tiny, but nice bright and shiny! As small as could be, still a woman was she! I was just about her size the first time I stood beside mama on Merta Lee Breakwater's front porch. Of course I was only a child at the time, with the usual questions in my head like, why you can't eat mudpies, and how come butterflies don't speak. Naturally, I was newly curious as to how a grown woman was no taller than me. It was a cold day, but Merta Lee was on the porch rocking and reading a riddle. When she saw us, she leapt to her feet, clapped her hands, and danced with glee. The gusty wind was making my teeth clatter and chatter and chatter and clatter! Then Merta Lee suddenly, and very loudly, exclaimed, "Open your mouth child!". "I thought I saw a woodpecker in there!!" I laughed, and it warmed me up. The place was bright green, and oh my what a scene! There were forty ducks to my left, and twenty guineas to my right. Four rabbits, a white dog, and a pink pig swirled and twirled behind me. Above my head there were bluebirds and ribbons, snowflakes and sunbeams. Yes, that is indeed, exactly how I remember it, and I knew at the time that we would learn to love this new little neighbor. Mama brought her usual gift basket filled with moonshine, molasses, mushrooms, and melons. Mama was low on molasses, so she doubled the mushrooms. My mama was different, just for the record, but she did teach me to think and dream, imagine and scheme. She also taught me to accept people the way they are, and just the way they were born and meant to be. Merta Lee was about forty years old, when she first moved to the little cottage down the hill from us. I was about ten years old, and I loved that quaint cottage, and little Merta Lee. We never found the age difference to be a problem, because Merta Lee could play hopscotch, kick ball, red rover, marbles, and just about anything else. I never have forgotten that first time we met on her front porch, and treasure every memory since then. I asked Merta Lee one time if it ever bothered her that she was so short and small for her age. Her answer was not so profound as I figured when she said, "Of course it does, are you goosey?!!" I liked the fact that not only could she play all the games with me, but she could also bake me a pie, or sew me a dress. Merta Lee Breakwater had the biggest smile on the smallest face, and always kept her pigs in the pen where they belonged. She was thoughtful like that.
