Eat in the Kitchen

EAT in the Kitchen!

Billy loved to talk.

He talked to anybody, about anything anytime.

Between mouthfuls of catsup sauce covered meatloaf,

mashed potatoes and snap beans he entertained the dinner guests.

This time he told of meeting a nice colored lady.

She smiled and said hello to him, at Martin’s Grocery store on the corner.

He did not get far in his telling, before his grandpa looked up from his plate,

cleared his throat and barked, “EAT in the kitchen.

EAT in the kitchen, now.”

Billy sputtered, “But why, why?”

Grandpa roared a command that would hush a grown man.

“Don’t try me boy. Do as you are told.”

Forks kept clinking against plates, as if no one heard their interaction.

Billy sat mutely at the wooden table in the kitchen.

No longer hungry.

Following dinner his mom sloshed dinnerware, with soapy dishwater in the deep ceramic sink.

Billy moved close to her side and whispered, “Ma, what did I do wrong?”

She quietly answered, “Well, boy, not much.

Grandpa just didn’t like what you said about that colored woman.”

Confused Billy mumbled, What about her?”

Sighing, she matter-of-factly stated. “Child, just remember when around Grandpa,

do not call colored women-LADIES.

Unless you want to EAT in the kitchen.