• Veronica Taylor

Florence,SC

Updated: Oct 19, 2020

Summers

Used to be chlorine and imaginary anecdotes.

I’d have box braids

with perm rods hanging on the ends,

Curling my hair prim and perfect for each day.

And the house

Smelt like butter beans.

No!

collard greens.

No!

Fish stew!

White rice cooking next to it.

We’d eat on it for days;

I Wouldn’t get tired of it either.

I never get tired of anything you cooked.

Everything you made was

Better than any restaurant I could ever go to.

And we’d take our plates to the tv room,

Set up our trays and watch

Young and the Restless.

Nick and Sharron are broken up again.

Victor and Nicki are kissing.

You’d frown your face and say,

“All that damn kissing. Shit”

And I say

“Stop Cussing, Grandma!”

And you would wave your hand

And say

“Ah Hell”

And that would make me giggle.

When we finished,

I didn’t have to beg for more,

You already knew.

I was “a skinny little thing who could eat”

Then when we were REALLY done

You’d wash the plates.

You’re in your night dress and bonnet.

I’m trying to get comfortable;

tight braids and perm rods don’t allow this.

Then we go to bed.

I ask

“Grandma?”

“Can you hold me?”

You can’t say no.

That was summer

We’d go to sleep.

Another day of cussing,

tight, itchy braids,

And fish stew.

I loved Summer.


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