Nine holes left

no, nanny doesn't golf

Nine holes left.

To peg.

Not to golf.

Nanny and I were playing crib.

We were tied with nine holes left.

There was that woman down the road…. Florence. She lived to be a hundred and thirteen ya know.

I shuffled the cards and dealt out six each.

She passed away just a few days after her son did. He lived into his nineties.

We both discarded a couple into my crib.

Whether for pegging, a crib or a hand, it didn’t matter - my cards were garbage.

Your cut Nanny.

She flipped over a five. More garbage for me but a bit of a twinkle for her.

My play. It’s lonely here. I miss my husband. He was the only one for me.

Back and forth we went. I wanted to stay and play all night, but I had responsibilities at home.

And the days getting shorter doesn’t help any. It’s awfully quiet down here.

Over the course of our small talk she pegged five.

One of these days, I’m gonna wake up dead… I’ve got first count? Ok. Ten.

Nanny picked up her rear red peg and placed it in the penultimate hole.

I guess that means I won.

She s…