Mutual acquaintances were gathered about the facility. She and the parson sat in the lobby, having each, separately, absented themselves from the inane conversations going on among the others. It was a big lobby. Perhaps it was the vastness that gradually pulled them toward each other. In any case, they soon found themselves sitting in comfortable chairs almost adjacent to each other. The chatter of conversations in the other areas were muted by the cascading splashes of the water feature ten yards away.
“My name's Emma,” she said, after studying the parson for a spell.
The parson told her his and then asked, “You're here with your parents?”
“Actually, I'm here with my aunt. My daddy's a doctor and he's doing an emergency operation and my Mom's visiting her mother. So my aunt brought me here. I think she has to meet with some people and then she's taking me to the pancake house before she takes me home.”
“I guess it's kinda boring in there for a young lady your age.”
“It sure is. How come you're out here and not in there?”
“It's kinda boring for someone my age, too.”
“Oh,” she said. She began to swing her feet back and forth in a motion that took them under the seat and then outward almost parallel to the floor. She seemed to be thinking. Then the thoughts found words. “What do you do?”
“Well, my main job is a grandfather. But I have another job as a church pastor.”
“Cool,” she said. “My uncle is a pastor. He's up in Tennessee. Maybe you know him.” She told the parson his name but it didn't ring a bell. The parson told her so. “Well, you would like him. He tells lots of funny stories. My Mom says he tells too many, but I don't think so. Don't you think people should have fun in church?”
“I do,” I responded. “A church that's not fun isn't much of a church.”
“You're right,” she said.
“How was your Valentine's Day?” the parson asked.
“It was full of chocolate. I've got piles of chocolate all over my room. Do you like chocolate?”
“I do,” the parson said.
“I do, too,” she said, “but I don't think I'll eat much of it. Chocolate isn't that good for you.”
“Did you get any Valentines?” the parson asked.
“I sure did.” The parson asked her if any of them were special. She looked at him from under ridiculously long eyelashes. “Well, I got one special one. It was from my boyfriend.”
“Is he in your class at school?”
“No, he goes to another school. But we see each other at my brother's soccer games. His brother plays soccer on my brother's team.”
“I guess since his Valentine was special you really like him.”
“I do; he's really nice. He's mature. I think other girls like him because of that but I'm his girlfriend. We have lots of fun together. I think my Mom likes him too. At least, she thinks he's nice, too.”
“You're a lucky girl,” the parson said. “What's his name?”
“Jeremiah,” she replied.
“What's his last name?”
She wrinkled her forehead and replied, “I don't know his last name.”
Her aunt walked up and gathered her in. The parson watched her walk away, a seven-year-old in love.
ah bless!
Posted by: wondering | February 17, 2011 at 05:25 PM