an excerpt from...an excerpt:--
“Here, take this inside.” She handed me a warm, aluminum-foiled
casserole. My mother was leaned over into the car, rearranging and
stacking edible contributions to today’s festivities. A large glass
bowl full of mashed potatoes. Chunky chocolate brownies sprinkled with
powdered sugar. We were blindsided earlier in the week with a
pulsating, berating series of phone calls and grocery store run-ins
designed to guilt us into attending the church’s annual fall festival.
A Halloween party, really; though no one openly admitted it. The soles
of my shoes hadn’t touched this lawn, this parking lot – in at least
seven years. We were all reluctant, we are all pouring with pride. But
caved.
I took the steps to the front door, propped open with an
overturned chair but not exactly inviting. I stopped in the middle of
the aisle. Everything smelled the same. Aged wood and a carpet heavy
with the weight of must, decades strong. Mr. Poland was staring at the
stained glass painting in the center of the left side of the small,
tight auditorium. I always felt like a match in a box of ashes here,
waiting to be lit. Hoping for fire. He was running his fingers along
the bright face of Jesus. Down his neck and to the center of his chest,
at which point he stopped and turned around. His eyes were electric. I
started walking before my feet strangled themselves into a full-blown
jog. A subtle sprint. “How often do you talk to God?” Our eyes met
completely. We carry the same weight. We are sharing the same fear.
Ever lifting.
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