Member-only story
You Had Me at Chocolate, God
Life was much simpler when I was a little girl.
Life was also much safer. A little girl, like me, could walk around the neighborhood visiting anyone alone. I could even buy candy at the store, all by myself. The 1970s were grand and many things happened in those years to shape my life. Good and bad.
We were not a religious family. Easter Sundays were the only church days I remember, for us. I grew up with the Easter bunny, Santa Claus and unbreathable, stiff Halloween masks, which would have stifled the whole Covid problem.
I don't remember hearing too much about God. My relationship with him consisted of nightly prayers, that my dear mom never let me forget to say. Now I lay me down to sleep, type stuff.
It was enough to peak my seven-year-old interest, about who exactly was I talking (praying) to every night? I mean, who was this guy anyway? Did my mom even know this character, who apparently lived somewhere up, up, and away?
I knew that some neighborhood kids took a Sunday school bus to church on Sunday. In those days, a bus would just pull up on the corner and any kid could jump on it.
It took you to some place magical I supposed, where who knows what took place. For some reason, the neighbor kids kept going back every Sunday. Blah…
