Sunday, January 9, 2011

my sunday worst

tapping his foot impatiently, slightly nodding his head, looking at me with that anxiety ridden expression, Uncle Freddie.  sitting in his GI Joe hummer, all decked out for church, as if i am making him late.  why is it that no matter who's fault it is,  i feel like i am making the ferret late?

"sammy get in, how's your mother?"  i was still a young ferret, so climbing up into a hummer in my sunday best was a bit of a chore

"i said how's your mother?  not in the mood today, sammy?" uncle freddie said as he kicked up gravel, squealed the tires and drove off like he was mario anfretti.

"somethings brewing, percolatin' in that head a yours, son, i know it, you  gonna be good in sunday school, sammy, or will i hear about you from your teacher?"

maybe i do specialize in being difficult, but so doesn't everyone?  "why do you even bother going to church, uncle freddie?  you gallivant all over town in your Hummer, wear flashy clothes, you nap with different ferrets every day, why do you even go to church?  you of all people, why bother?" and i didn't know if i meant to sting him, but that stung, at least a bit. 

"sammy my boy, you've always been able to tell it like it is..." as he wheeled in,  manic hyper spaz Uncle Freddie, and i climbed out and started for the door

he put his arm around me, and held me close, as we walked in - for all his faults in spite of mine - he made me feel loved. 

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