“And she would have these plates of food made up sometimes we would bring the food we would bring like a KFC meal or Taco Bell, sometimes Bojangle biscuits; Dad would bring her lunch all the time. He would -he would run out and he’d come back home and talk about his days with Gaya how he saw her and brought her lunch that day; kept her company and it was always really special when he would run out and get Taco Bell and bring it back because suddenly we were on the other side of that story and we were part of the lunches we were always hearing about between him and Gaya. And the rule was always no feet on the chairs her red and blue, the seats of the chairs had red and blue upholstery we couldn’t put our feet on them and I was always really paranoid about doing that I think its cause -I don’t know, I’ve always liked to sit on my feet when I eat at least have one leg underneath me so when I couldn’t do that at Gaya’s house that was kind of awkward but I didn’t; but I did stick one leg under me when I was big enough to have it kind of hanging off the edge.”
Fast food was exciting. We didn’t have it much, and it’s amazing how infrequency can turn the most common thing into luxury. There’s a particular memory of Dad standing at the table, sorting out a Taco Bell bag. They were so particular about those chairs. And like a good, over-achieving youngster, I was adequately paranoid about breaking the rule of no feet on the upholstery. Now, they line our hallways, fill corners in our living room, and are the “extra” spot for a dinner guest. I spilled water on one, and no one scolded me.