Friday afternoon southern sweetness Congregation Parneshia Jones Weir, Mississippi, 1984 Sara Ross, Great and Grand-mother of all rooted things waits on the family porch. We make our way back to her beginnings. Six daughters gather space and time in a small kitchen. Recipes as old as the cauldron and aprons wrap around these daughters; keepers of cast iron and collective Lard sizzles a sermon from the stove, frying uncle’s morning catch into gold-plated, cornmeal catfish. Biscuits bigger than a grown man’s fist center the Chantilly laced table of yams, black eyed peas over rice and pineapple, pointing upside down cake. The fields, soaked with breeze and sun, move across my legs like Sara’s hands. Chartreuse colored waters, hide and seek in watermelon patches, dim my ache for Chicago. Peach and pear ornaments hang from Sara’s trees. Jelly jars tinted with homemade whiskey, guitar stringing uncles who never left the porch, still dream of being famous country singers. Toothpick, tipped hats and sunset linger as four generations come from four corners to eat, pray, fuss and laugh themselves into stories of a kinfolk, at a country soiree, down in the delta. Copyright @ 2014 by Parneshia Jones.
Posted on: Sat, 23 Aug 2014 00:25:24 +0000
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