Chicken. . .
Today at work, I ate chicken like I know where I come from. No fork, no knife, just finger tips, teeth and lips.
Nothing was spared. Not the little bone attached to the leg, not the soft stuff under the breast, not even the wing tip on the chicken wing. Well the hip was spared; I can never bring myself to eat one half of a chicken’s booty.
Each rib was sucked dry and I even made a wish with the wishbone. Well, of course, I didn’t invite someone over to grab hold of one edge of the wishbone and make a wish with me, granted-ness of the wish given to the person who broke off the bigger piece. But I made a wish with myself, for myself.
For just one moment, if I blocked out all of the sounds around me, in the back of my head, I could hear grandma’s wooden spoon clanking against the glass container as she made another batch of her fresh brewed Lipton iced tea she makes with Teabags. That iced tea was so cold, that it’d make your body feel like you’re in Antarctica while standing in 88 degree heat in South Carolina.
I could hear her humming a gospel song, as she often does when she’s concentrating on work. I could hear the rattle snakes off the back porch and the dog’s barking in the neighbor’s yard. I could hear my cousin’s arguing over who’s the best wrestler, Hulk Hogan or Rick Flare. I could hear a combination of my Aunt’s air conditioner and soaps; probably ‘Days of Our Lives’ or ‘Young and the Restless.’ I could hear the leather recliner and the hundreds of family pictures in the living room. I could hear. . .home.
When all was said and done, I gathered up 7 separate napkins all covered in greasy finger prints and seasoning and tossed them in the garbage.
And it felt right. For about 15 minutes, I believed that the border between New York and South Carolina touched. I unrolled the cuffs on my shirt and re-buttoned them, put some hand sanitizer on my hands and around my lips and caught a flight right back to Corporate America.
Aren’t memories great?
Nothing was spared. Not the little bone attached to the leg, not the soft stuff under the breast, not even the wing tip on the chicken wing. Well the hip was spared; I can never bring myself to eat one half of a chicken’s booty.
Each rib was sucked dry and I even made a wish with the wishbone. Well, of course, I didn’t invite someone over to grab hold of one edge of the wishbone and make a wish with me, granted-ness of the wish given to the person who broke off the bigger piece. But I made a wish with myself, for myself.
For just one moment, if I blocked out all of the sounds around me, in the back of my head, I could hear grandma’s wooden spoon clanking against the glass container as she made another batch of her fresh brewed Lipton iced tea she makes with Teabags. That iced tea was so cold, that it’d make your body feel like you’re in Antarctica while standing in 88 degree heat in South Carolina.
I could hear her humming a gospel song, as she often does when she’s concentrating on work. I could hear the rattle snakes off the back porch and the dog’s barking in the neighbor’s yard. I could hear my cousin’s arguing over who’s the best wrestler, Hulk Hogan or Rick Flare. I could hear a combination of my Aunt’s air conditioner and soaps; probably ‘Days of Our Lives’ or ‘Young and the Restless.’ I could hear the leather recliner and the hundreds of family pictures in the living room. I could hear. . .home.
When all was said and done, I gathered up 7 separate napkins all covered in greasy finger prints and seasoning and tossed them in the garbage.
And it felt right. For about 15 minutes, I believed that the border between New York and South Carolina touched. I unrolled the cuffs on my shirt and re-buttoned them, put some hand sanitizer on my hands and around my lips and caught a flight right back to Corporate America.
Aren’t memories great?
posted by JayGee at 5/23/2006 10:47:00 AM
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