Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Otis



Before going for the interview I tell my Mom, It is important that I focus. I am not going to get distracted. I refuse to allow anything to get in my way.  Though she lives in a historic home this interview is about the church. I shouldn't even take my camera.

Mom nods, That's right. Stay on task.

I think it's important as a parent to pretend your children can do things they obviously can't.



A room full of books? Don't mind me, I'll just stay here.


We are to have coffee. Martha can afford me an hour of her time, and I think I did okay the first five or so minutes, but, I mean, well, just look.


You just go on about your business, Martha. After a little while I may just bring one of the books in here.

Or wait. I'm thinking this interview is going to take at least a month. Maybe I should invite a friend. We'll stay in here.



It is not a problem that Martha is also an artist. Surprise, she paints.

I was doing okay I think. I was writing in a notebook, looking at material she had copied for me as she told me this crazy, sad, inspirational, courageous story about the restoration of the home. I was trying.

I really was.

Until she mentioned Otis, and he walked into the room.

I am only human.

What church?

I think I was sore the next day from resisting the gravitational pull which was trying to get me to drop to the floor and roll around with Otis. The fact that I didn't means I will go back. I can't live with that kind of regret.



Today I am grateful for distractions and sweet cuddly surprises.


I missed you, my reader.

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