Words from the artist as they look upon a plate of liver and onions in Dover, Delaware:

Or how I looked up from this crab soup and learned to love my grandmother's presence.

My Grandmother looked upon my face as she repeated certain things that I remembered and with a small smile on her small freckled face. She was still clad in a nightgown as she kept moving to and fro in her apartment and reminisced about family long since passed on and how the majority of my father's family are the people of "Hey, we need to get things done NOW."

Dad, comfortably perched into the recliner and falling asleep in brief moments during a re-run of one of the many Tyler Perry programs or the first quarter of the Sunday football game, quietly chimed in when Grandma and I looked upon a YouTube channel I usually watch about Japanese train reviews, or reminder us about the differences about Japanese trains and Amtrak.

There so much history, victories and a sense of boldness that I sense in a 4'10 bulldozer of a woman that has birthed my father, my aunt and uncles and lives here in a place she calls "Her Sleepy hollow". She, while we keep moving from different places in the apartment, keeps me talking about life, how she needs to win a billion dollars to move back to New York City and just trying to grow strong into her old age. Even though she, in the same breath, will call herself too old, but also would call me about how she doesn't associate herself with old people. This tiny woman, the last of my grandparents, as she sits upon a bed way too tall for her, has way too much stuff that I need to one day help her declutter, continues to brighten my world with her in it and will continue to do so when she is gone.

Seriously, there's so much expired spices and other items to purge from this place. The items in the bathroom ALONE is killing me.

But, I'll happily keep having quiet moments of us being together, from her talking about being more appreciated by people in her life with that "Let's do this RIGHT the FUCK now" inherited attitude, or the seeing her tackle a teeny mountain of liver and onions in a diner (maybe restaurant? It gave 1996 trucker stop on the way to Youngstown, Ohio vibes) and after admitting defeat, asked me to take the to go plate.

Next time, we'll just come for the crab soup.