~Thin Air~
At age twelve growing up in North Carolina, the highlight of life for a preteen was going to the local mall on Saturday evenings. It was something about roaming around parentless with a week's worth of allowance tickling your velcro wallet that was liberating. The walkways were flooded with teens shopping on Saturday for an outfit to wear next Saturday. The mall was our fashion show, and the crowded walkways were the legendary red carpet. Anybody who was somebody was there on Saturday chasing girls/boys, being a pest in the arcade, window shopping, or being chased out of the smoking area by overweight security guards. I loved being on the scene, so naturally I was highly irritated if something stood in the way of me making my red carpet appearance.
My mom owned a church in a small ghost town where she grew up; well I guess God owned it, but my mother founded it. Every Saturday morning she would drag me and whoever else she could catch off guard down to the church to help clean up and prepare for the following Sunday service. I hated this... Not only was I losing a Sunday out of my hectic preteen schedule, but I was missing Saturday morning cartoons and sometimes being late for my cameo at the hotspot mall. I despised cleaning up the church and it showed all over my face as I slacked in my assigned tasks and often wandered off with my arms crossed.
The church was located down a dirt road filled with pot holes and road kill rodents who were lucky enough to make it out of this hellhole. The lot was surrounded by cornfields and acres of trees that seemed to swallow me in every time I came here. There was only one neighbor in site; a small rusty trailer with a yard full of junk cars and toddler toys in worse shape than the vehicles. The porch of this house was supported by a single beam that seemed as if a butterfly landed on it too aggressively the entire foundation would cave in. The sight of this gloomy residence made my time at the church even less pleasant.
One day as I was walking around the church in a spunk avoiding my mother's labor, I noticed a kid sitting on the decrepit porch of the Scooby Doo house I hated looking at. I hated looking at that place and from what I could see the kid resembled the tree he fell from. But I was bored so I went over and befriended the guy, and it turned out to be the best thing that could possibly happen in this dreadful situation. We spent hours wandering off into the fields playing hide and seek, tag, or just exploring the jungle of corn. During hide and seek I could never find him as quick as I wanted to, but right when I was about to give up, or felt that I was lost and alone, it seemed as if he found me.
This particular Saturday we were sitting on the side of the ditch near the church, just chit chatting while tossing rocks across the road. I wasn't in the best of moods because I knew this would be one of the long Saturdays causing me to be late to the mall. I expressed my anger and hatred for being at the church instead of with my friends getting dressed for the mall. I even mentioned my lack of belief in God and how I felt that church was a waste of time and a scam to con simple minds out of money. I didn't realize what I was saying but when I glanced over at him I knew that I had struck a nerve. I was ashamed of myself. Here I was complaining about being here and how I would rather be with my friends, while probably one of my truest friends took these insensitive words to the gut. I was talking like this place was a punishment to me, and he was just a cellmate helping time pass; but to him, these moments of bonding, with who he viewed as a friend, were probably the highlight of his week.
My mom owned a church in a small ghost town where she grew up; well I guess God owned it, but my mother founded it. Every Saturday morning she would drag me and whoever else she could catch off guard down to the church to help clean up and prepare for the following Sunday service. I hated this... Not only was I losing a Sunday out of my hectic preteen schedule, but I was missing Saturday morning cartoons and sometimes being late for my cameo at the hotspot mall. I despised cleaning up the church and it showed all over my face as I slacked in my assigned tasks and often wandered off with my arms crossed.
The church was located down a dirt road filled with pot holes and road kill rodents who were lucky enough to make it out of this hellhole. The lot was surrounded by cornfields and acres of trees that seemed to swallow me in every time I came here. There was only one neighbor in site; a small rusty trailer with a yard full of junk cars and toddler toys in worse shape than the vehicles. The porch of this house was supported by a single beam that seemed as if a butterfly landed on it too aggressively the entire foundation would cave in. The sight of this gloomy residence made my time at the church even less pleasant.
One day as I was walking around the church in a spunk avoiding my mother's labor, I noticed a kid sitting on the decrepit porch of the Scooby Doo house I hated looking at. I hated looking at that place and from what I could see the kid resembled the tree he fell from. But I was bored so I went over and befriended the guy, and it turned out to be the best thing that could possibly happen in this dreadful situation. We spent hours wandering off into the fields playing hide and seek, tag, or just exploring the jungle of corn. During hide and seek I could never find him as quick as I wanted to, but right when I was about to give up, or felt that I was lost and alone, it seemed as if he found me.
This particular Saturday we were sitting on the side of the ditch near the church, just chit chatting while tossing rocks across the road. I wasn't in the best of moods because I knew this would be one of the long Saturdays causing me to be late to the mall. I expressed my anger and hatred for being at the church instead of with my friends getting dressed for the mall. I even mentioned my lack of belief in God and how I felt that church was a waste of time and a scam to con simple minds out of money. I didn't realize what I was saying but when I glanced over at him I knew that I had struck a nerve. I was ashamed of myself. Here I was complaining about being here and how I would rather be with my friends, while probably one of my truest friends took these insensitive words to the gut. I was talking like this place was a punishment to me, and he was just a cellmate helping time pass; but to him, these moments of bonding, with who he viewed as a friend, were probably the highlight of his week.
I felt terrible as I stared at him debating on whether I should apologize or just change the subject. He was sitting with his legs crossed and his head down while plucking individual weeds from their roots. I needed to say something to resolve this situation or bypass it, and I needed that solution fast. As I was trying to muster words to say like a politician who had just slipped out a racial slur live, He started to smile. I couldn't see his face entirely but I saw the corners of his mouth. I didn't know if that was a good smile or an evil one that usually lead to an assault, but I couldn't risk losing my only friend in this desolate neighborhood.
"I'm sorry, that came out wrong." I said as I leaned over and playfully nudged him in the arm. His mood didn't change, he just sat there smiling. I was out of ideas so I sat in silence staring at the ground.
"Do you really feel like that?" He finally said. I couldn't even look over at him; I was so embarrassed.
"Man I was talking crazy. Don't take it personally, I wasn't referring to you." I said while pulling my own pasture of weeds out of the ground.
"I mean about God... You really don't think he exists, do you?" He said catching me off guard. I was relieved he wasn't discussing the initial topic so I loosened up.
"I just find it hard to believe in something I can't see." I said giving some cliché line I stole from a movie. The truth was, I didn't know if I believed in God or not. I knew that I should believe in him, because my family has preached, literally, it to me for years. But personally I didn't know what to believe. I was just out of touch with religion.
"He's closer than you think..." I heard him whisper. I looked over at him and he was standing up in the middle of the road. If this was a city I would think he was suicidal and trying to get hit by a car, but since we were out in the middle of nowhere I didn't know what he was up to.
"Watch this." He said as he lifted his arms up. I started to smile thinking this was his way of cheering me up with his humor. I had no idea where this show was going but I sat back and watched him.
He just stood there with his arms stretched out and his head tilted back staring into the clouds. I was ready for him to start dancing or something amusing but a gust of wind interrupted me from relaxing. It turned out to be more than just a little breeze. Suddenly it felt like a hurricane was hitting and dust from the dirt road as well as pebbles were flying up and hitting me in the face. I tried to warn him that a hurricane was coming but I could barely hear myself out of all the chaos. It was impossible to see anything through this madness so I just got low and covered my head like they taught us in school during a tornado drill. I didn't know where he was or if he made it to safety, but I was too afraid to move so I remained still. After about five minutes the wind stopped and I finally peeked up. He was gone. There wasn't a sign of him or even evidence that a hurricane had even come. I stood up quickly and looked around thinking he had run off as a joke. I walked back towards the church and his house, but I couldn't find him. By the time I got back to the church my mother was walking out and it was time to go. I was so excited that the day had flown by so quickly that I forgot all about my lost friend.
The following weekend I reported for Saturday clean up duty with a look of disgust. I felt like a Hollywood diva sentenced to community service over a DUI, and I felt mentally hung over. After minutes of being on station I realized that my country buddy hadn't come knocking on the church door to retrieve me, or bust me out of the slammer as I pictured it. I was expecting him to have a concrete smile over that little disappearing act he pulled that perfectly timed into a dust storm, but he never came. I kept glancing out of the window as I pretended to sweep but I couldn't get a full view of his house.
Finally I built up enough nerve; I went outside towards that shipwreck of a porch I hated seeing. Even stepping into the yard I expected a junk yard dog to chase me off the property. I took ginger steps testing if the porch could support my weight and eventually made it to the door. The front entrance was wide open only protected by a flimsy screen door that seemed to be hanging on by the support of a spider web. I spent close to a full minute trying to discover a doorbell, but of course the architect of this masterpiece didn't include such an urbanized accessory. As I was trying to convince myself to knock a heavy set woman appeared before me emerging from the shadows of the poorly lit home. She looked rough and her dress, which I was sure was an undergarment, was showing every mile of her stretch marked cleavage. This was probably the first time I've ever stared at breast in a night gown with a look of repugnance. I straightened my face up and initiated conversation since it was evident that she wasn't going to speak first. Her eyes burned through me and I could tell she was expecting me to be on a Holy mission trying to recruit her membership for our church.
"Hello, I'm Reggie, I usually hangout with your son. My mom owns the church next door." I said in my most polite voice. She just stared at me with those distrustful eyes and her hand propped on her hip.
"You hang out with my son huh?" she responded sarcastically.
"Yes Ma'am his name is... J I believe." I felt dumb that I didn't know his full name, and the fact that I only knew a common initial wasn't helping my case here. She continued to look at me with a straight face. I knew she was trying to read my true intentions.
"Look son, I really dunno what you think you are up to, but all my kids are grown. So I highly doubt you played with any of them. As far as this so called 'J' you're talking about, he doesn't live here." She said with her serious voice I suppose. I was confused. I knew that J came from this house. I remember it vividly.
"Maybe he was your grandson." I ignorantly replied. I could tell by her eyes that she didn't take this response too well.
"You have a blessed day." She said as she slammed the decrepit door in my face. It felt as if the porch was going to cave in.
I hastily made my way back to the church property. My mind was asking itself a thousand questions a second. Who was this guy that I played with? There are no other houses for miles so he had to have lived next door. I finally came to the conclusion that maybe he had got in trouble during the week and was on punishment. But why would his mother make up such a lie?
When I walked into the church my mom was mopping the entrance. She glanced up at me and instantly could tell something was wrong.
"Is everything ok honey?" She asked in her motherly voice. I didn't want to tell what just happened, because honestly I had no idea what just happened. The puzzled look on my face must have confused even her.
"Did you hurt yourself playing in those fields alone again...?" She asked. Her words sent chills through my ribcage. Alone?
"Hey Mom, That kid that I always play with outside... Do you know where he lives?" I asked while tip toeing over the wet floor. She stopped and rested her chin on the mop handle.
"What kid? I always saw you out there playing by yourself." She said and continued to mop. I felt a wave of nausea sweep across my body. I began getting dizzy so I made my way towards a pew. As I collapsed on the hardened surface it all started to make sense to me, but at the same time it didn't. I had flashbacks of that awkward moment we spent just before the dust storm. The words "He's closer than you think" echoed through my skull. Was I going crazy and creating an imaginary friend? Would I turn out like Tom Hanks in 'Cast Away' yelling to a volleyball? Was this church causing me to lose my mind, or did I really just witness God in the human form?
I smile whenever I think of that encounter now; though at first I was buried in endless questions and a naïve disbelief that the event ever happened. I tried to tell a few of my friends about it but of course they laughed and viewed it as a joke. How could I convince someone to believe that I met God when I wasn't sure of it myself? Sometimes I would catch myself sitting on the church lawn during Saturday clean up, or staring out of the window during Sunday service looking for my friend to walk by. I just need a glimpse to confirm that I wasn't crazy. I never saw him again. But whenever I found myself lost in life's cornfields, I could feel J's presence... disguised in Thin Air...
time to when I could visually read the 11th line.