Writer in the Forest

Chapter 23

“I love you,” said Bill, hugging Mom in her hospital bed. For hours we sat, watching and waiting. I would have gotten up, but my legs wouldn’t hold me.

I was studying my brother over the rim of my coffee cup, remembering a day when I was on my back on the kitchen floor in our Chico house, looking up at the faces of the neighbor boys who were holding me down, a live hose in my mouth. The boys were laughing because they could see my underpants as I kicked and struggled. I swallowed water as fast as I could. I’m still here, so I guess they gave me only as much water as I could take.

They say that about God.

I looked at Mom. We only bore a small resemblance. But if  she woke right now she should see a reflection of all she taught me.

North Cascades Highway

Things like having faith and unconditional love.

They say that about God, too.

And maybe, if I remember it just right, I’d had a little pre-Baptism.