IT EXISTS! The place where slush ice falls generously from the sky, aiming directly towards my open mouth, and sometimes into my unsuspecting eyeball, causing me to blink once and wrestle through the discomfort, with a straight face, so that I don’t look foolish in a foreign land by someone who might be watching me from behind their insect screens.
I wish we had insect screens at home. Mosquito’s would riot! Flies would demand a re-election…of something! But we?!?! Would be able to sleep with our windows open. They’d have to be electrified though. Like the fences around Wendy’s block of flats and numerous other residential homes around the country. You know how it goes at home. The window’s open. We fall asleep with the breeze tickling our flesh? Suddenly Reeva Steenkamp needs to pee!
But ohhhhhhhhhh! The joyyyy! And pain at the centre of every last one of my almost frostbitten bones! That place in my mind, far beyond the wavy seas and mountains wide...one that I always knew was out there but could only salivate at the thought of. That placccccce! (Bear with me, I’ll be done soon…)
That I’ve dreamed about ever since I discovered that if I cupped my hands real stiff and scraped real hard?!?! My mum wouldn’t need to defrost the freezer! We were an average income family, okay! The frost-free refrigerator’s were hidden in the back of the storerooms and only revealed to those who knew what “bearer” on a cheque, meant! I blatantly assume that to have been the case. I blame apartheid. As well as for the fact that it doesn’t snow at home. Now that it’s ended? It’s just anti-white everything.
Im trying to come up with a name for the place. If I say, Philadelphia? Then some might be like? Why can’t it be New York, or New Jersey…or Alaska? And then if I say, the United States of America? Then it’s like? Why can’t it be Russia. I’m not here to offend any countries, cities or even small squirrels. And speaking of Russia! Dan…our resident Russian son of a Black man named, Geese? My fingers are wrinkled.
I did the dishes.
Lemme tell you? He is an amazing cook. But I’m far from exaggerating when I tell you…he leaves no dish unused. If there are five pots in the cupboard? He will use six. Don’t ask!! All I see is him saying to himself, “Okkkkkkkay, the chickens done! Wait!!!” While, with the corner of his eye, a clean pot has been spotted! “That’s clean! How’d that happen!” Takes it out, transfers the chicken into it…“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…nowwwwww I’m done!” Even the pot must be like, “Dude? Was that even @#%&$@# necessary?!?! Dirty Dishes Anonymous, mannnn. Google it.” Walks outa the kitchen and makes it no further than the cutlery drawer! “Morrrrre clean kitchen utensils! I’m losing my touch! Dammit!”
I remember the last time I came over in 2011? He was kind enough to cook up this entire Thanksgiving meal for me because I would be gone by then and I’d never had Thanksgiving in the States before. Delicioooooooooous! Delicous-delicious! You don’t know this? But I’ve paused and just?!
Sat.
I just sat as visions of Tornado Dan ripped through the kitchen in my memory. Geese and I have cooked over these past days. And when you go out there? Okay, there are dishes. But only necessary ones. Dan the Dish Destroyer? Uhhhhhhh-no!
I really shoulda taken my cup of diet soda outside this morning. At least this time, I wouldn’t have gotten the, “Nut Alert!” look from the the cinema staff when I ask for popcorn, and diet Coke with slush ice. The manager always gets involved. Nnnnnnnnnn. I don’t like that. It instantly causes me to put up my defenses and I usually keep those for when the supermarket packers are handling my bread. Call me fanatical but I lose my mind if my bread is squashed, pressed or put in the bag with something cold. Or round. Some people are under the false impression that because it can be pressed in…it will bounce back out. The slice of bread, I mean. Nope. What’s pushed in doesn’t necessarily come out. That’s not how the law of yeast works. And then I’m the one trying to make lunches with one square slice and the other, shaped like a dog relaxing on its hind legs.
I didn’t notice one thing, though. More than three people who passed me this morning? Were having enthusiastic conversations. With themselves. O_o! I still haven’t decided whether they were just milling over stuff that they were thinking about, ‘cause, ay? Some of them looked really intense. Or whether on snow days? They give out day passes at the loony bin. I’m gonna have to keep my eye out on future snow days to make an accurate assessment on that one. The one? His coffee cup was getting a pretty good reprimand by the looks of it. I was so tempted to say, “Go-go easy on it, sir. Coffee cups have feelings too…”
Instead? I pretended to have something in my eye ‘til they passed so that my eyes don’t contact their eyes. Safer.
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