mystic reveries's Blog

Church Services

by S. A. Adams

     My mother leaned my way and then bent over to pick up the hymnal.  She patted my leg like a little kitten and whispered “Sit up straight” with a smile.  I squiggled up in the pew but the pew was as hard as the smack of a baseball, at least when Matt hits it.  I wish I were outside.  The only light in here is soured by those stained glass abominations.  Yes, that’s what granny said.  Abominations, because they were modern art and abstact.  We learned that stuff in art last week.  “It’s creative”, I told granny.  She said,”It should be beautiful.”

     The milky mouthed baby in front looked over her father’s shoulder and stared at me.  It had whispers of hair and the tip of one of its little tiny ears flipped over, kind of like a dog’s will when its curious.  Our dog Pal had that look and Matt cried forever when it died.

     I was figuring how long the baby would stare at you if you stared back when all of a sudden it burped up some cottage cheese.  This happened just as the pastor said “Praise God”  and ended one more of his palatable sermons.  My mom said they gave you something to think about and something to swallow.  But anyway I let out a laugh which sounded like a cat spitting up a fur ball.  I couldn’t help it.  The baby looked at me with a gritty face and immediately began to wail.  And continued to wail all through the next hymn.  People turned and cast grapefruit faces at the family.  Nobody knew it was really my fault.  Suddenly I was alive and feeling singularly invincible.  I stuck out my tongue at the wailer.

     My father’s hand reached across two people to smack me smartly on the back of the head.

     I know the baby saw my gritty face now.  She stopped wailing.  Her eyes smiled right at me.