I knew it was love

I knew it was love

He said, "It ain't easy being away from home on the holidays because it's just not the same and you can't complain about a free meal. However, I just wish that I could get a proper holiday meal."

I listened.

He said, "I mean, who I gotta know to get some chittlins that are cleaned properly? Is it that hard? Aren't there any cooking classes being offered in grandmothers' kitchens anymore?"

I listened.

He said, "Is there no honor among African Americans anymore? It's a holiday!! Why are we eating the same stuff we ate after the church picnic in July? This just doesn't make sense!"

I listened.

He said, "All a displaced black man wanted was sweet potatoes, greens, dressing, giblet gravy, turkey and cranberry sauce...oh, and cornbread. Is that so much to ask for on Thanksgiving?"

I listened.

Then, I knew it was love...when I began preheating the oven, greasing the skillet, looking for that box of Bell's turkey seasoning and making a shopping list and channeling the spirit of every cooking ancestor in my lineage...so that he would know that there is honor among African Americans on holidays.

I knew it was love...because I considered cleaning chitterlings...

I listened.