It's been almost a year since I did
creative writing. I feel numb without words to tell me what I'm going
through. I went to a writing Meetup hoping to awaken the creativity.
We had a prompt to write a story with a given first sentence. The
next prompt was to use the words tea (or T, the subway system in
Boston), dawn (or don), and clasp.
Here's my piece.
It was summer of 2005 when I first saw
Jesus sitting in the sunshine of my backyard with a frizzy white hair
in a one-inch ponytail and eating a tuna sandwich.
"Ahem," I said, staring him
down with hands on my hips. "Shouldn't you be showing mercy to
all animals?"
"It's Vegan. We're good." He
offered the seat next to him, so I took it. He offered half of the
sandwich and I took that too.
"So, the hairdo . . ."
"Hair don't," He corrected.
"It gets all frizzy in the humidity and it went white from
worry." He shook his head in dismay. "You humans."
"Do you blame us for all of your
troubles?" I asked before swallowing the last of my sandwich.
"If only some benevolent creator could have made us to be more
-"
"Enough." He stopped me.
"Free will and all that. Besides, creation was Dad's job."
"Whose idea was the free will?"
"Shut up," He mumbled.
"What did you want to talk about?"
"You. What's up?"
"Don't you know? Omniscient and
all that?"
"Yeah, but I still like to hear
from you."
"I lost faith in humanity."
"Too much free will?" He
asked.
"Too much entitlement." I paused "And not enough caring."
"Hmm." He looked pensive,
then reached into a bag beside him and pulled out a thermos with an
image of dawn rising over a meadow.
"What's in there?"
"Raspberry leaf tea."
"My favorite," I said.
"What was that about entitlement
again?" He mocked outrage, but poured some tea into the
mug-shaped lid before I even thought of a response.
"You're a saint," I said.
"Ugh. This?" He
started. I just giggled. The expression on his face was priceless.
"Whatever," I sipped the tea.
"It's sweet. The tea and the gesture."
"When did you lose faith in
humanity?"
"Do we have to?" I asked. He
nodded. "Couldn't we just sit here and mock each other? It's
more fun."
"You're using it to hide from the
real issues."
"Duh." I rolled my eyes.
"That's what it is for."
"You used to believe they'd get
better. Redemption and stuff."
"I used to believe in you."
"How'd that work out?"
"When I stopped, you showed up
with Vegan tuna and tea and I don't know what else."
"A listening ear."
"Does this mean that if I wait,
all of humanity will show up with Vegan treats?"
"No. Most likely they'll write you
off as a recluse snob. They'll say you've been grumpy and agitated
and they won't want you around."
"Maybe I don't want them." I
handed him back the mug-lid. "They're rather hard to please."
"The ones who are close to you
just want what's best for you." He screwed the lid on the
thermos, methodically clasping it shut.
"Yeah. Like I said."
"Why is that hard?"
"Because I don't know what's best
for me."
"What makes you happy?" He
asked.
"Using sarcasm to hide from what
hurts me."
"Infuriating." He shook his
head, white frizz shaking like the flakes in a snow globe. "You
humans."
-------------
{Note}
I got a little too real amongst all
that sarcastic talk with Jesus. I was trying valiantly to hide from
it, but valiance only carries one so far. As for the issues that I am
hiding from, those are between me and The Lord. And I'm not sure I
believe in Him. Or you. Or me.
