not far from the truth: a freewriting challenge from the kween...
It's been a long time since we last met. The last time was here, wasn't it? Well... in there. The doors are shut now. Probably a service in progress. I remember what it was like to be in there, to see the King children in the back row with their coloring books and little baggies of Cheerios, old lady Shaw and her warm smile and penetrating eyes, and Miss Jeanie sitting straight as an arrow behind the piano. Is she well? She used to give me the biggest smiles, the sweetest hugs. She and her husband took me out for my birthday last year. I miss them. I miss all of them. I'm still the same person, after all. It was their smiles that faltered, their breath that got caught up in the battle between me and what they think you said. But it wasn't you, was it? No, you wouldn't say something like that about me. Yet, here I am, and there they are--the doors locked more securely than before, the narrow windows more tightly shuttered. I used to preach from their pulpit; now I'm here, behind these bars, the once shiny black paint chipping away and showing the rust beneath. Looking up at the cold stone stained by centuries of weather and creeping vines, it's hard to imagine you living there. But you're not contained by stone halls or iron bars, are you? How could you be? No... you're right. Neither am I. They're the ones behind the bars, kept in the stone vault and looking out narrow windows. Maybe, one day, they'll venture down that old gravel path and discover you waiting for them in places they didn't expect. And I'll hug Miss Jeanie again and wink at old lady Shaw and see how much the children have grown.
Three things I'm thankful for, day two:
- Warm, whole-wheat bread fresh from the oven with peach preserves I made a couple nights ago.
- Quiet nights in, complete with conversations with good friends and Netflix movies on tap.
- Course schedules from a helpful graduate assistant assuring me I didn't procrastinate too long and that I will graduate. Finally.