It was something my dad said, on the phone the other day. Something about churches and land fights and building fights. It reminded me of them even though I don't remember who they were, even though we must've only went there I think a few times, even though I can't remember.
The church was green. It probably wasn't. It was probably white or maybe possibly brown, with a steeple and steps up to the door in the austere style we call classic. Some Protestant church, bible church or community church or maybe a suburban pentacostal group, living in a building built by someone before them. It had a steeple and it was green and surrounded by a neighborhood of houses (all of them in my mind green) and engulfed in a neighborhood forest in the full-leafed summer.
I remember walking down a city block to a green church with the trees swallowing the street.
Churches, my mom would say, we've been around the block.