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The building on South Fountain Street was the axis of weekends and weekdays. It was used for church and school both, and all special occasions in between. At any time, a person could walk through its front doors and enter the belly of its cold embrace, three levels of florescent hallways stretching like long arms balancing a body.
In the basement our Sunday School teacher lit an alcohol wipe on fire and threw it in the air. We watched it disappear, and he told us this was how God got rid of our sins.
In the upstairs hallway, beside the north-facing window, my mother came to the door of my fifth grade class. She whispered with my teacher, then pulled me aside somberly. “You have mono,” she wept, and I was terrified.
In the kitchen I mixed sugar into water and was disappointed by the taste.
The heart of the building was a tiny space at the center of the ground floor. It was a hallway—nay, a staging area. Once you had arrived at this space, you had three choices: return through the heavy door into the main hallway, ascend a small staircase to a stage, or enter into a big, bright gymnasium.
This nook of a gym entryway was home to vending machines packed with chocolate chip and blueberry muffins from GFS. I longed for them. I longed for anything edible during church hours in particular, during which I could not focus or sit still. I knew where they kept the treats for Sunday School, and would sneak off to that upstairs closet, but it wasn’t always unlocked. Hence the desperate sugar water.
Sometimes I just stood in front of that vending machine and thought about what I would eat if I could. Most of the adults in the church had other things on their mind and stayed away from this space. Occasionally one would appear and make me uncomfortable.
On school picture day, I wore my lime green fleece turtle neck from Old Navy which my mom bought me from Plato’s Closet, and my Bonne Bell peach lip gloss which my mom bought me at Meijer. We lined up outside of the sanctuary where my parents had renewed their vows years earlier and took turns sitting on the stage in front of the camera.
My picture came out great. Lime green was a nice color on fifth grade me, and my lips were so shiny they looked edited. It was just what I was hoping for. Best of all, there isn’t a shadow of self-consciousness or insecurity on may face. Just a big sugar-rush grin.
I was suddenly overcome with memories and emotions.