At a certain height

  most of the boys in the vicinity of "home" looked gingerly through Daddy's closet for their manning up moments.  Our mother made all the girls be busy. 

  And we girlrace got good at appearing to ignore them.

  Our cousin Pierre picked the cranberry blazer.  And Dad who was dressed as a basketball player/referee/bathrobe & slippers/tube sock'd kind of guy had his hands on his hips and was trying to see over Pierre's shoulder at what his fancy had landed on. 

  Dad sat on the edge of the bed and Pierre in our Pop Pop's chair.  A woman in silk running shorts and a sweatshirt "bedazzled" with all color words that read: GO TEAMs. and various cloth tape measures draped down the front of her spoke lowly to Sherry as she pulled the door closed quietly. 

  "Let's let the men talk.  Where's your sewing machine?" 

  "I'll show you Melinda.  And how about a cup of coffee?" The woman got closer and hunched a little bit and put her hand on Sherry's arm.  Two steps down Sherry stopped short and drew in a little breath.  "Oooops. I told a little fib." She adjusted the washclothe in her underwear through her "peasant skirt from India" and the woman asked, "Anything serious?" 

  Sherry sat on the step, so did Melinda.  Sherry crossed one leg over the other.  So did the other woman.  Sherry reached a hand up to the railing.  Mellie, as we came to call her, put her hand up on the side of Sherry's head.  They sat like that.  Letting a rush of memories fill in between question and answers.  Two almost teens came barreling in from outside, opened the fridge and gulped down all liquids on the top shelf.  Then came bounding up the stairs. 

  Won't ask.

  Don't want to know.

  Into Dad's room. 

  Down the steps slowly.  Carpet being cleaned, slippery in socks, stocking'd feet, the ladies went into the dining room.  Mama flicked on the light.  The sight of the chandelier alight brought an ooooooo, and eyes falling onto lace table cloth atop a plastic felt-backed table protector.  The woman stood between two chairs.  She wasn't much taller than either.  "May I sit?"  

  "Please." Mom pulled a chair out about six inches.  The woman looked into her eyes and asked, "Do I seem that tiny?" Sherry's rings hit the table to make a sound, it reached the chair back in a thumb to pinky knuckle distance.  She laughed.  "What's WRONG????" The middle sister was dressed as a nurse; came in quickly and demanded to know.  "She laughed."  Mellie thumbed at Sherry.  "Not possible," said the black wool caped nurse in the paper white hat. 

  The middle sister went back into the kitchen and poured two cups of coffee.  Mom laughed again.  The paper hat would've fallen off if it wasn't bobby-pinned on she poked her head around the corner so fast.  "Who's fibbing in thar?" 

  "Speaking of fibs Melinda," mama caught the woman's eye and held her gaze.  "It's not my sewing machine." 

  "It's not?"

  "No.  When Ed and I got back to Town." She pulled the chair out farther and they both sat on halfa seat.  "Yes?" 

  "Well, we had to rent our former possessions." 

  "So, it's a rental?"  Mellie crossed her arms and leaned her elbows on the table.  From under the table each cloth measure was pulled and rolled so it would fit in a tuna can.

  Certain of the girlrace who'd had a taste of life outside the convent took to using rags and cloths for their monthly friend visiting.  This so boxes of pads could be used by the service workers.  A boy at school wigged out one day when he found a bag of bloody rags.  Although "the kind" was not store bought the girlrace would snag an extra when piddling somewhere that had pads in the restroom.  This had to be explained to the younger girls as they were getting accused of stockpiling and stealing.  But to questions about bodies and hormones, a dreadful silence seemed part of a cover up.