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Read the Blog in full

Monday, August 15, 2011

Hey! You! Get Out of My Way! Part 22 Leaving Home

School goes too fast. I spend most of my day watching the clock. What the hell am I about to encounter when I get back to Laura’s? What kind of meeting is this? Is it a cult? Is there a goat involved?

All I know about church is that every Sunday my sisters and I were forced to sit not only through Church but Sunday school as well. Church service was an hour and Sunday school was an hour as well. We attended Hamilton Union Presbyterian Church.

I remember that the clock was at the back of the room and only the Minister could see it. I would get whacked every time I turned around to look at that clock. Church was boring and torturous. Our Minister was long winded. One thing that annoyed me was that my Mother took to dressing us all alike. If we were clean and dressed well, that made her look good in the eyes of god and the congregation.

When I was young I even was sent to a religious camp named Camp Hebron. My Mother told me that I loved it. I don’t remember that much about my experience. I do remember that I was sent home early for looking at some girls boobs through a hole in the wall. My parents were called home early from their vacation. Looking at girls boobs through a hole was not a proper and wholesome way to discover the female of the species. 

The end of the day came and Laura was waiting for me in the parking lot. It was time to go to my first meeting. The car ride home was quiet. I cleared my throat a lot and Laura looked at me lovingly.  As we pull into the driveway Laura looks at me. “Nervous?” she asks. “A little,” I admit.

I open the car door, the dogs are waiting. As I climb out and walk to the house they jump around my feet. Walking into the kitchen, Laura throws the cars keys on the table. “Were home,” Laura screams.

Laura’s mother buzzes through the kitchen, her arms full of papers and materials for her meeting. “Hello Children,” she says pausing briefly. Her eyes look up as if she is reading what she just said. Pleased with herself she smiles and heads into the basement.

I head up the stairs and into my new bedroom. My throat is dry and scratchy; I’m not feeling too well. I try to tell myself that it is nerves. Cars begin to arrive, dropping off armies of children. I peek around the corner. I recognize Laura’s best friend Mark. He arrives with his little brother

To be continued…………..

Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writing "A Day in the Life". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.

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