Friday, 27 October 2017

Eighty one.

Dear America,

You have within your arms one of the most wonderful storytellers in the world.

According to my first big brother, when dis fella tell a story, you can see them chopped up snakes flying in de air.  You can feel dat jumbie, dat ghost, brush against your skin, and you will freeze with fright.

He once described to me a shoal of fish feeding and birds flying in the air. I swear, I was not in the kitchen that morning.  I was out in the fresh air, hearing the birds call, seeing the water bubbling, I could feel the breeze blow against my skin, warm with the sun, yet cool.

He was the outdoor one who took us children fishing, down-creek, up-creek, he drove us to places that were exotic to little country-side children.

Please take good care of him, America. He is a treasure.  He is my father's little brother, my dearest, dearest uncle.  He is eighty-one today.