Every change, even tiny ones like being woken early on a Sunday, could be trouble. I did not want one more freckle to fall off my knee for fifty years. At least."We're going to church." "Why come, Daddy?" I'm partial to the singing and rainbow windows though not the wearing of shoes.Daddy wiped his damp brow with one of the kerchiefs I washed for him weekly and finally answered my why come. "Let's say we're going to thank God for autumn and pray for cooler weather. Plus, you can thank Him that I haven't found wherever you had Traveler put those shoes of yours." I'm of no mind about people's feet one way or another, but GrandNam made sure I had shoes in church. Though I reckon God knew what my toes looked like, and so did Preacher, as he saw 'em plenty when I helped Daddy build the choir risers. On that sweltery September Sunday, Daddy and me and my bare feet walked up the silent, hot, country road with no more words needed between us. I felt that we would present a united front to the Town Ladies in front of God and all, and they would see how things are. That he and I were doin' just fine and didn't need anymore of their fixing. Excerpted from Otherwise Known As Possum by Maria D. Laso All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
