Jan 27, 2006

Colored memories

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.