Kache Moné

The real title of this post is Funeral Shoes. But I couldn’t let this whole Kache Moné thing get buried in today’s post. Remember Knee.no Brown?? Well ladies and gents, from the people who bought you such greats as Kneen.o and Flirt.isha comes Kashe Moné! Say it out loud to yourself. As you read this, mull over all the possible pronounciatons and I bet you won’t get it.

Funeral Shoes

Now look, I told y’all I knew the exact moment my mom’s best friend died, right? Before my mother even told me. Well, now I know something else. Something just as messed up. It all started last Friday. I was telling Nellie how this dude I used to date crossed my mind. What I didn’t tell her was that on Thursday night when I thought of him, it was a solid 35 minutes of unconnected memories where I didn’t even know who or what I was remembering. I just work up with thoughts of the furniture in his guest room and how the light bounces off the walls of the room in the morning and how the third step squeeks and the numbers of his address. But for 35 minutes, I didn’t think of how these things were related. About 3:30, I got up and went to a jewelry box my girl had gotten me. I opened in and pulled out one tightly folded piece of paper. It was even stapled so nobody’d read it. I ripped it open and read an e-mail sent to back in May 2001. Ha!! Then it all came together.

When people cross my mind like this, I know something is going on in their lives. Something that is probably changing them. Or, and I choose to believe this in this case, I did something, or saw something that reminded me of this person. It was Thursday. I had been at the salon. I had thumbed through Vibe. I had seen his friend in there. I don’t read Vibe. Not that I hate it but I’m just not their core audience. A few years back I was in the salon (Can y’all tell this is where I get my mag read on?), I was thumbing through Vibe and saw a picture and thought, “That hat and coat look familiar…Hey wait is that…Yeah that is.” Funny how the mind works.

A couple years ago, I was NotDating™ a guy we’ll call Jason. One night Jason came over–because that’s what people do when they are NotDating™. We were watching some movies and he fell asleep on my couch. I got up and went to bed. The next morning when I woke up, I layed in my bed reviewing the dream I’d had the night before. Stop me if you’ve heard this story before. I’d drempt that I was dressed in a black suit, with my jacket off, black shoes, black thigh highs, kneeling down in front of Jason as he cried–which I’d never seen him do before. I was very aware of my surroundings but couldn’t really focus on anything but him. We were at a funeral. He too was in black. The casket was over my right shoulder. I knew it had to be one of his relatives because of his reaction. It didn’t occur to me that it could be either of his siblings but I noticed his parents weren’t around. When I woke, I reviewed every single detail. Down to my being sure to not kneel so much that the lacey part of my thigh-highs would show. Down to the design of my shoes and how they fit. The left heel kept slipping out as I steadies myself. I put my left hand on his right shoulder.

The next morning, Jason knocked on my bedroom door. I’m super paranoid an sleep with my door closed even when others are in my spot. I told him to come in and he took a seat on my pilates ball. Then he came out with it. “My mother has cancer.” And you know what I knew in that moment? She wasn’t going to make it. And I was going to go to the funeral.

Time wore on and another of his relaitves died. I didn’t go the funeral and dismissed this as a random dream that meant nothing. That is until I looked at the mess that is my bedroom and took a look at some black shoes I bought recently. On Friday evening, I wore the shoes out. And the left one kept slipping off. I still have the dress/suit hanging in my closet. It’s been a minute since I could fit it. But thanks to this new healthier lifestyle, I’ll be back in it by spring. My girl always says, “Buy the outfit and the occasion will come.” Ain’t that about a b*tch!

I thought about calling him to make sure his mom was still winning her battle with cancer. But I can’t bring myself to do it. Because really, how would the conversation go? “Hey. How’s it going? Good, good. And how’s the mother? Because I have a feeling someone in your family’s gonna die. Let me know when it happens because I already have the outfit.” NO!

Kache Moné! I bet your dying to know!! Dying!! My girl works at a place where she’s constantly coming across these gems. Kache Moné = Cash Money! And yes, this is a child’s name. No need to thank me!!