"Bowl of Apples" Goauche on Paper. Copyright 2012 Totsymae

So, I’m lying here, in this very spot on my bed with the laptop, and I was reading this blog post about an A-List this guy’s thinking to have for his funeral, right? Of course, that leads me to considering what a cool idea this is for folk who I don’t want to be at my funeral. I do hope that’s a very long way off, by the way, but there ain’t nothing unique about this particular hope. Unless, well, you’re in your 90s.

My great-grandmother was 95 when she passed on. Said she was ready and unafraid of leaving her life. Recently, she had a birthday, which would’ve made her 114. I believe it was the last two years of her life that she was bedridden, after a stroke took away her ability to make those homemade biscuits I sopped with syrup at her little kitchen table when I was a girl. Or get fancied up and go to the market, only to return and find my sister, cousin and I, had gotten into mischief with some foolishness, that only she had the resolve of Godly patience and motherly wit in how to deal with our rascal-like ways. Also, when I was a girl. Or call and say, ‘Whatcha know good?” when I became a woman.

And here, in this very warm spot of my bed, I’m reading this blog, and ’cause I’ve chosen to be cremated and spread over the grave of my great-grand, I’m still pondering this A-List, even though that was a resolution I said I’d no longer occupy my mind with. But hey, if I can go around with my little sis, sniffing chair seats, you can best bet I’d pick my teeth with a resolution and flick it aimlessly if it came in the size of a toothpick.

And it wasn’t so much the list I came to a four-way stop on but I navigated over to thinking of chicken, pig and turkey meat. Follow me? ‘Cause we’re all meat, right? Then, my brain flicked on the bright lights to human body parts. Like, which ones would be edible and I shifted into reverse, being that meat ain’t the most vital part. However, the brain is. Therefore, I meandered over to my own brain ’cause one has to ponder his/her ways of thinking. Like, if folk had to get nutrition from my brain in the form of character, heart and soul and whatnot, what parts of it would they get that would make them better or worse for mankind? What adjectives, or even nouns, positive or negative, would they digest and pick up from eating my brain? You ever think about that?

Like, I could continue to recline in the comforts of this here bed, while listening to the rain beat against the rooftop, and muse about the juiciest adjectives and nouns I could drum up but, well (ahem), I don’t have all day, folks. And since it’s my nature to be honest, which is a good character trait to eat of my brain, neither can I spare (ahem), the next minute with minor details of the not so great nouns and adjectives one would eat of my brain.

Though, I will ask you to ponder the powers, or lack of it, of your own”brain for nutrition.” See, this is the kinda shit I found myself wrapped up in after reading that whole thing about A-Listing the funeral. I could tell you why my brain shifted in that direction but, well, I know you don’t wanna make this all about me, so (ahem) I’m gonna, unselfishly, flick on my highbeams and put the focus on you.

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