Some years back, your daddy and I went to see Booker T. and the M.G.s perform at the Coliseum in Memphis. We stayed at your aunt Ross house, but none of us slept. We partied and stayed up all night. The drummers name was Al Jackson Jr. He hung out with us that night after the concert. Ros knew them all. Lord, Mama. You never told me that. Where was I? You were away at vacation Bible school. So yall partied while I was getting saved. I laughed. I wanted my parents to dance again, to smoke reefer and curse and act like young people. Surely they had earned the carelessness of success. I wanted them to enjoy it.

Take My Hand by Dolen Perkins-Valdez