Comeback Kids

I love you like chicken noodle soup on a rainy day. Like Collards and Kale when you eat too much during the week. Like birthday cake with cheap icing, not that over-rated fruit filling gourmet crap. But I gotta tell yall something. Only Kids. The dutiful kind. Those who end up on some level parenting their parents, rooting them on through life’s ongoing foibles. You know those kids get an automatic pass to heaven. Not saying that everybody else doesn’t, but it amazes me how some people take on so much and still keep kicking. I suppose there really is no alternative. I mean you can lament all the damn day about wanting to be a superhero for your parent, not doing enough etc. etc, wanting to fix their lives and make it full and happy. But lamenting all day in this life, in this world, gets your lights/water/gas shut off.

I was all ready to write about Black Man Plan day 12. It seems to be a popular search on here now. I was gonna tell you about “O” and my “get together” (I am not using the word date anymore-it sounds like a reflex when O messes up) with 44 year old “JC” -who I assume now is a closet homosexual because while calling me and asking me to go to dinner-he’s at the grocery store buying toiletries. I never in all my 32 years heard of a man going to the grocery store to buy “toiletries”. Men buy toilet paper, soap, shaving cream–THEY DO NOT BUY “TOILETRIES”. And they most certainly do not get baby wipes for the bathroom.

Anyway…(A.D.D. deactivate) I got a call as soon as I signed in to wordpress this morning to tell yall about the toiletry theory. It was from my friend Mo whose mother at this point is dying. She’s an only kid too. Her mother also had cancer (which I guess made us bond on some level). But the second time after remission she isn’t doing so well. And I’m bumbed, Comeback Girl must admit.