The Chosen Pew

I've pretty much lost almost all interest in writing. I've moved on to frying other fish. I'll probably regain interest at some point, but that point is not now. In any event, I have a story to tell.

Five-year-old boy in church. Time comes to kneel. Boy, between kneelers, steps on one kneeler with one foot, and the other kneeler (which is in the upright position) with his other foot. Upright kneeler slams into down position and scrapes shin of middle-aged woman to his right.

The woman does not hold back in her vocalization of the pain. The entire mass is disrupted by the groaning. Every eye in the church turns and fixes (in that really Christian sort of way) on the "injured" woman, the boy, and the boy's family. The flock is far more interested in watching the melodrama play out. A woman from the boy's family turns to offer some help, but the horrible over-actor shouts "No! Get away from me! Don't touch me!"

"Your mother!" she says.

While the injured woman writhes in agony and demands much attention, someone finally turns around to see the young boy sitting there with a bloody nose. An elderly woman nearby begins weeping.

The boy is escorted to the bathroom with his head tilted back. The woman is offered a tissue to absorb her blood loss. Meanwhile, a young lady, heretofore having absolutely no involvement with this situation whatsoever, has been temporarily abandoned by her family while they help tend to all the injured parties. She is left sitting there alone with the sensation of 1,000 eyes upon her, silently demanding some sort of explanation.

She simply offers "Your mother."*

After mass, the injured woman walks to her Jeep without so much as a limp. She drives herself to the hospital and a member of the boy's family has gone along for the ride. The hospital applies topical antibiotic and a Band-Aid.

And that was church.



*denotes writer embellishment.