Maple Syrup Sunday
A regional event.
Get in a car.
Drive forty minutes.
Pay $20.00 for a family of four.
Sit outside at a picnic table in 33 degree weather not including wind chill, and eat your plate of not from scratch pancakes.
Drown the pretty good anyway pancakes with the amber syrup that was produced this season.
Listen to the banjo music by the very talented trio of high school boys.
Lose a balloon.
Pet a cow.
Go home, talking about how fun that was.
Imagine you live somewhere where the regional activity draws people from the region
who are the same skin color as your children.
At least one?
Eat more cotton candy, and feel gratitude that the movie being played in the van of the friends who invited you out with them, is The Princess and the Frog.
Lower your voice as you tell your friend that you don’t know how much longer you can live in a place that is so white.
Tell her you want your children to be able to have a black doctor, dentist, teacher, or shop owner.
Recall how Sammy told you last night that Maine has lots of black people-
at our church.
Notice how understanding her nod is.
Look at the pictures of the maple syrup together that you took, and notice all the different shades locked away for safe keeping in all of those little jars saturated with light.