Sitting quietly,
“Samuel, Samuel”
the reader’s voice
drifts over the
congregation,
I ponder homily
points and stop.
Transported back
to the summer of '69
to your family
farm,
Pepsi and beer,
your father’s apple
cider
and food piled high
on long, white
draped
tables to
celebrate you
and your graduation
from high school.
The time machine
whizzes me through
the many miles
traveled that
summer
up Highway 61
feigning an
interest
in fishing, but
surreptitiously
seeking
only a glance, a
chance to breathe
in your presence
and carry that
presence
within me for
another week.
A smile formed from
a memory long ago,
a dream come true.
“The Word of the
Lord!”
and suddenly
whisked
back to the present
I stand and receive
the
blessing from the
priest.
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