16 years, 17 years, 2 years, continuum

As per the intergalactic rating system concerning food, there is one category that reigns supreme.  It trumps all others in all aspects, delicious.  The category is, of course, grandma food.  Grandma food is the best.  Grandma food is grandma food, and if you eat it you’ll know.  Knowing and being, seeing is believing.  Grandma food makes life’s trumpets tingle, vibrato. 

Mondays, past noonish, and I rendezvous with grandma food.  Comida de Tita.  Tito and Tita.  Abuelito, abuelita, los visitamos los sábados en su casita.  I eat a big breakfast, but it’s 5:20 am, so I’m just not that hungry.  I pack some snacks, but I’m just too busy to really eat much.  I’m quite caught up teaching.  I’m “profe.” 

“Profe, que, ¿cuándo vamos de gira?”

Tita smiles always as she lets me in.  Ana is usually lying down by the time I get there, and she always asks me how the baby is doing.  She will love him very much.

“Vamos a ver…vamos a ver.  Tome, tome.  Pruebe, pruebe.   Deme, y le sirvo mas.”

There’s quite a spread always.  Salads, rice, beans, meat, potatoes, beats, picadillos, juices, and for desert, dates from Saudi Arabia.

“Rico, rico…ve, que dicha.”

Grandma’s are people too.  I like to ask her people questions.  Today, she offered:

“Well I was 16 years when I got married!  Wow!  But I’ll tell you, it’s tough being alone.”

“How much older was Tito?”

“About 13 years.”

“Wow, and he’s been gone for a while now…”

“Coming up on 17 years.  It’s not nice to be alone…” she fades.

Grandmas worry, but are merry when we eat their food.  A simple phone call from a TV repair man makes her real happy.  She’s in a story in which she is getting a great deal.  I co-labor-ate.

*

“Now I’m not a prophet, but sometimes I have prophetic dreams.”   This line I fed telekinetically to Huey Freeman once.  Last night, in a dream, in a neighborhood I know but can’t place, I saw my sister walking Charlie.  Laura once told me she would take Charlie if she could.  She would have could she have.  To have could you would have you. 

You know how old dogs get old-dog-fat?  It’s not real fat, but it’s a bit more rounded.  This is coupled with the graying of the muzzle.  Charlie was old-dog-fat, but he still had the scar from the bot fly I and Jesus removed.  Yes people, Jesus.  Watch Ya’ll Samurai Episode two to clarify any misconceptions, and I promise you that I am not being blasphemous.  Have could you would you.  Few things are as liberating to me as a good dream cry.  Two years with Charlie, a lifetime in duality.  Half could be you.  Half of our genetic material is passed on in our gamates.  Tito and Tita, and Tita is a bit lonely.

I’m trying to stress to my students the difficulty in conceptualizing the continuity that characterizes all life forms.  We cannot experience nor witness, and probably, can’t properly understand the continuity that characterizes all life forms.  Half of you in all of you, all around you, in looping dishes with grandma food.