"Merry Christmas baby!" Mrs. Florene said as I stepped through her door to the warm and inviting inside of George's house this afternoon. "We are having a simple Christmas today. We are having hors d'oeuvres and we will open presents."
Mrs. Jones got busy in the kitchen preparing the food as I asked George, "What's wrong with your mother? She was going to cook a big meal."
"She's not feeling well she says," George replied. "She says it's her nerves."
I guess I wasn't the only one letting Christmas get the better of them. I was so worn out and tired mentally after yesterday. Mrs. Florene had also cooked a huge meal Christmas day for lots of family members. She is, I believe, 74 years old. George had said his mother's sister came with all her brood. No wonder her nerves were bad.
We had those new flipside pretzel crackers with a dill and cream cheese spread. Mrs. Florene had also bought some olives skewered with toothpicks knowing I love them. We also had a platter of vegetables with ranch dressing to dip them in. I was perfectly happy with such fare - hungrily eating as I drank some of the best sweet iced tea I had ever had.
"I've got some fresh mint for the tea," Mrs. Florene said as she whizzed by me to go use the bathroom. "Look in the fridge."
We opened our presents afterwards. Mrs. Florene just loved her griddle I gave her.
"Pancakes in the morning and you better be here!" she told me excitedly.
George got his six pack of Heineken. I almost couldn't come up with the money for it as it was $8 dollars - $8 dollars for a six pack of beer! My God! George was thrilled, though, and stuck them in the fridge to get cold much to Mrs. Florene's un-approving eye. It was a nice Christmas spent with my black family - a family I feel much more comfortable with than my own flesh and blood.