Faith

It felt like a bird, unfurling wings with the highest clear note I could sing, and spreading them to soak in the bright yellow sunlight, warm and fuzzy and something good all about. It felt like sugar cookies and hot cocoa - not too hot, just right with little marshmallows floating in the brown pool - and like a PBJ sandwich weith a pickle on the side and chocolate milk beside the kitchen window, surrounded by toys. It felt like a heavy mound of blankets and stuffed animals on a cold dark night with the humming of the house and falling stars. It felt like fresh rain when it was so very hot outside, and like little plastic boats floating in puddles that Mummy told me not to go near.

It didn't feel like cousins or stinky feet or friends, nor like the soft hair on my best friend's legs. It didn't want to be like parents or dogs or evil carnivorous bunny rabbits that charged at you in the computer room. It didn't seem like my Mummy or my Daddy, thought I called them by opposite names, but It felt like a mummy and daddy all the same in one.

I smiled, and looked at the candle and at the priest. The flames of the dark cahpel smiled back at me behind dark coloured glass wreathed with pine, red and purple and blue and green. I looked at my Daddy, the Daddy that didn't feel like It, and he smiled and nodded at me as I kicked my shoes under the pew.

This page and all works within copyrighted 2001 to Engel. Don't steal.