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I ain’t no braggart, and I ain’t a-fibbin’
I almost exploded, and I ain't a-kiddin’!
It was way back last fall when they buried Aunt
Joan.
They gathered from Tyler, Ft. Worth, San Antone,
And when they showed up they brought food and
more food.
(For me not to eat it would just have been rude!)
Now don’t get me wrong, I was sad that she died,
But I was in heaven when I spied those pies!
The cousins from Cleburne brought chocolate and
cherry,
Great Uncle Fitzsimmons brought sour gooseberry.
The casseroles numbered somewhere in the
hundreds
With black-eyed peas, okra, and two or three
cornbreads.
The cinnamon rolls--they were right up my alley
So I split the last one with ol’ Grandpa McNally.
I ate some potatoes and bar-b-que brisket,
Some red Jell-O salad and honey and biscuits.
I drank a few Cokes and then took a short break
Played Frisbee with Marcus, then we ate some
cake.
We both felt real sorry for dear, old Aunt Joanie,
And so in her honor, ate pan-fried baloney.
Ma shot me a glance when I took some bratwurst
And called ‘cross the room, “Hey you, Bubba,
don’t burst!”
I paid her no mind, grabbed a sweet roll instead
Ran upstairs with Twyla and jumped on the bed.
We snuck down for ice cream around 8’ o clock,
Had cookies and milk (and a really good talk.)
We found some old glass jars and caught fireflies
Came back in the house, and finished the pies.
Then Daddy called out, “Son, it’s time to go
home.”
And carried a package of neat Styrofoam
To the car with my sister, Delilah, in tow.
Just one more kolache, and I’m good to go!
We said our good-byes and hugged and kissed
some
(My Great Grandpa Ross gave me Juicy Fruit
gum)
The next thing I knew, I was in my own bed
With an ache in my gut and a pain in my head.
I called out for Momma and soon she was there,
She rubbed on my stomach and stroked back my
hair.
She made me feel better, though I must admit
We both sorta wondered why I hadn’t split.
She snuggled with me and we talked about Joan
And all of the family that day that had shown
How much they had loved her, each in their own
way
From the stories they’d told to the pies they had
made.
Now I was afraid she and Dad would be furious
‘Cause I didn’t act mournful or even real serious.
She told me that how I behaved was okay,
That we all acted sad in our own special way.
Some people cry, some people act cold,
And some people eat ‘til they almost explode!
She tickled my ear, then tucked me in tight,
Prayed by my bed, turned off the hall light.
As I sleepily lay there, I wondered a smidge
Was there any of that bar-b-que in the frig?
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