I’m in my home eating BBQ chicken wings with my grandkids.
Grilled chicken wings tasting ever so sweet and spicy.
Grilled chicken wings smelling of honey and brown sugar.
Grilled juicy chicken wings melting in my mouth.
All of my fingers are smothered in barbeque.
And I can’t wait to lick off the sauce.
I know, I’m not much of an example for the grandchildren.
But these wings are “finger-licking-good.”
Then I look into Juliette’s eyes and ask, “Are you ready to sing?”
She giggles and we jump into the song:
Chicken wings, chicken wings
Hot dog and baloney
Chicken and macaroni
Chillin’ wit mah homiiieees.
The whole table bursts out laughing.
And I taste a moment of normalcy.
A life filled with hot dogs and baloney
And chicken and macaroni.
A Kodak moment in a cell-phone age.
A hopeful moment when vaccines are being produced with a 90% effective rate.
A moment of sanity when a new man and a new woman get ready to move into the White House.
A new moment—when a bright yellow light can be seen at the end of the tunnel.
A tunnel that had been dark for oh-so long.
The light warms the dining room.
And I realize how much I missed chillin’ with my homies.
