Comes the next generation, assimiliated or otherwise.
A nice man! Tall, but not too tall, because then you -- you too short, eh-mar, for a very tall man with a beard...
She is polite to these strangers around her, radiates love, affection, hoping they will not hurt her. The same as when she came to this place the first time, her anger and the fear unexpected. Be polite, be modest, be loveable, and the strangers won't hurt her.
Still, she's never been much for others, my mother: at the time I didn't know if she realised her sister was actually on her deathbed, but now I'm starting to think she just had no sympathy for the situation.
Three hundred and sixty degrees she turned, and as if trapped in an early version of a three dimensional gamer's world, she turned and turned and only saw her face. She had no sides, no curves but for the hourglass defining her.
When I visited Over There, it had been forty two years since I left. Every second question was 'why aren't you married'. Gone forty two years and there's no 'how are you, what do you do, tell us about your life!' No, it's all, 'where's your husband? Where's your boyfriend? Why aren't you married?'