Letter

Dear whomever this may concern,

This is your aunt Florida, Flow for short dear; do not forget that sweet little part. I am writing you this letter to give my greeting from here on out. You do not know me, hell, you never even met me before I’m sure, but I am your aunt because my sister is the one having all these babies when I ain’t got not a one. I am sure you know Clarabelle. Yeah, whether you are her daughter, granddaughter, or further down the tadpole than that, she is the one who birthed you first, so that makes me an aunty.
Anyway, I want to tell you a bit about myself if you do not mind. I come from the greatest city in the world, Chicago, Illinois. It is a world of its own I tell you. Buildings as far as the eye can see are being built from the ground up by bare hands. Cars with headlights as big as my head run the street with loud squeaky horns that give me a headache. It is hundreds of people walking the sidewalks everyday to and from work. Funny thing is, the sidewalk cannot hold of them folks so some spill over into the streets. Best thing about it is the diversity of people you see walking everyday. Honey child, I saw this gorgeous Mexican man that came on one of them boats to Chicago walk down the street one day. He had on a nice suit and a top hat that made him look sharp. His mustache was nice and finely done so I knew he was a nice fellow; but you do not need to know all about that, you are just a child ya’ here?
Funny thing is, I would not be surprised if you are Mexican yourself. Clarabelle always did have a thing for men of other races. She was all high ho for interracial relationships. She met this one Chinese man on the subway one time- which was a life-threatening experience you here? Lights’ flashing as this little tube shaped “subway” carries people underground at speeds that go faster than a blink of an eye will kill you. Believe me. I was one of the first.- and was just shining like a polished nickel. I saw the whole thing, would have laughed, and taunted her, but I was focusing on keeping my balance on that so called “subway”. It felt more like a death trap to me than anything.
Other than the subways, I enjoyed city life. There were lots to do, believe me. Women would dress all uppity and conservative in the daytime, but when the lights when out, boy oh boy did the cat jump out of the bag. The trend was to cut your hair all-short and wear little beaded dresses that stopped near your knees. I had about six of those dresses in all a rainbow of colors. I used to wear these little heels with a buckle in the front to go with the outfit. Sometimes, this is sometimes mind you, I would wear my Sunday hat when I wanted to be frisky. Now, once we got all dressed up and ready to go, we hit the town and see it at night. By golly, I tell you that Chicago was jumping once the time ticked out. Lights were flashing and there was not once street corner that did not have a jazz club open and ready for swinging. Walk into that little club after paying your five cents, you see a whole heap of folks just dancing and having a good ol’ time. It was a diversity too, so you had your little variety box of men you wanted to tango with you. That was the nightlife and it was, in my opinion, the best part.
During the day, the town would be hectic and filled with the working-man trying to make a quick buck by doing some job in a suit. I worked as a hair stylist in the heart of Michigan Avenue so I saw everything up close in personal from my window. A few mannerist people would walk by looking all trifling like by being rude to everybody like their life was more important than everyone elses, but it was, overall, a bustling metropolis during the nine to five. I love Chicago dear, always will. If you live in Chicago and Clarabelle had not moved her dark behind all the way to New York to see that steel building, go on forth street and see if Jimmy’s is still open. I bet it is a spot waiting for you.

Your Aunt,

Florida

Flow for short; remember that sweet little part.