“I know there’s a can of soup around here somewhere. I went down to the A & P yesterday. Or was that the day before? I can never remember. Anyway, I was sure I had at least one can of soup left. It’s not here though. Well, what am I going to eat now? I got some bread. I could eat that. Ain’t too much. What am I gonna do? Oh! Here are some beans. Okay, that’s what I’ll have. Butterbeans and bread. I’ll put some butter on the beans. That should be good. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. Now where’s that can opener ..?”
Mrs. Bessie is talkin’ to herself again. She’s got a house on 8th Street over near the Park. Her daughter lives up in Tennessee somewhere near Chattanooga. Lillie. Yeah. Lillie is her daughter’s name. She comes down on the train to visit her Mama every so often. The rest of the time Mrs. Bessie lives alone. Ain’t no one else to talk to ‘cept herself.
I think I’ll visit her on Sunday. Take along some pork chops and corn bread. I hope I can talk with her okay. Sometimes, when I’m speaking with someone, I’ll get caught up in their thoughts, and suddenly, my tongue catches and I’m hopelessly lost. Like Hansel and Gretel in that cold forest, I find myself stumbling along, mute and blind, searching vainly for a path and the vanished crumbs I left behind as clues, melting now in the beaks of birds. Then, all of sudden, I’ll come burstin’ out of the cerebral trees and find my companion staring at me in that strange way, wondering where I went and what took me so long to get back. It’s kind of hard to carry on a good conversation when you keep gettin’ lost in what the other person is tryin’ to say.