Зима тревоги нашей

           WhenDannyTaylorandIpunchedthelettersofasingularlydirtywordwithapinintheBookofCommonPrayer,Mr.Wheelercaughtusandwewerepunished,buttheyhadtogothroughalltheprayerbooksandthehymnalstomakesurethereweren’tmore.

           Once,inthatchairstallunderthelectern,adreadfulthinghappened.Iworethelaceandcarriedthecrossandsangabeefysoprano.Oncethebishopwasofficiating,aniceoldman,hairlessasaboiledonion,buttomeglowingwithraysofholiness.Soitwasthat,stunnedwithinspiration,Isetthecrossinitssocketattheendofprocessionalandforgottothrowthebrasslatchthathelditin.AtthereadingofthesecondlessonIsawwithhorrortheheavybrasscrossswayandcrashonthatholyhairlesshead.Thebishopwentdownlikeapole-axedcowandIlostthelacetoaboywhocouldn’tsingaswell,aboynamedSkunkfootHill.He’sananthropologistnow,somewhereintheWest.Theincidentseemedtoprovetomethatintentions,goodorbad,arenotenough.There’sluckorfateorsomethingelsethattakesoveraccidents.

           WesattheservicethroughandheardthenewsannouncedthatChristwasrisenindeed.Itranshiversupmyspineasalways.Itookcommunionwithagoodheart.AllenandMaryEllenweren’tyetconfirmedandtheygotprettyrestlessandhadtobegiventheironeyetostoptheirjittering.WhenMary’seyesarehostile,theycanpierceeventhearmorplateofadolescence.