here pondering our commitment to peace,” she says, “and thinking how we, as Friends, should put ourselves out there more, like at the schools, to get students—and teachers—thinking about peace.”
Oh, my God, it is like Sam said! I must be thinking in Quaker. It must be this room. My thoughts are running around and planting themselves in people’s brains without their even thinking! Like an Immaculate Perception.
I see the woman sit down and realize that she just finished speaking and I missed the rest of what she said. Because I am still in shock that somehow my brain waves are broadcasting in Quaker. I am not sure if this is a good thing or frightening.
I hear the cell phone bird and look out the windows trying to find it. The sun is streaming in and I realize that it is warmer in the Meeting House today. Finally I see the bird peeking in at me. I am actually enjoying the sound the bird is making. And the fact that I can sit here undisturbed.
I watch a man hunched over, elbows on knees, head hanging, eyes closed. And the younger version of himself next to him, maybe a college kid, in the same position. And I realize they look similar not just because of their shape but because of their faces. They must be father and son. And I wonder what it must be like to pray with your father instead of pray against him.
When Meeting is over, a woman stands up and looks at Sam. He smiles back. She says we have decided to introduce ourselves after Meeting. I am thinking this is silly, considering it is the same people every week. How can they possibly not know each other? Even I can recognize them after only coming here a few times. I am also thinking that since I had no part in such a decision, I can just slip out the door, but Sam’s hand closes on mine and pulls me back to my chair. He stands up, still holding my hand so it is dangling in space. I look away, trying to divert people’s eyes from my conspicuous arm.
“Good morning.” Sam smiles and looks around the room. “I’m Sam Fox.”
“Ohhhh,” someone says, exaggerated, chuckling.“Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?”
Another chuckle. “You mean, like, here?”
“No, I was thinking at the peace rallies on Thursday nights.”
“Oh, yes, I think he’s been there . . . once or twice.”
More friendly laughter.
Sam gives a wry smile, then squeezes my hand and looks down at me.
What? I say with my eyes.
He tugs at my arm a little and his eyes answer. Aren’t you going to stand up?
I shake my head and look away.
He coughs. “This is Matt.”
There is a chorus of “glad you’re with us,” “welcome,” “hello.”
I can feel my face burning and my arm tingling.
“Matt’s fourteen and she goes to Franklin High. She’s in the ninth grade, but she’s mostly taking classes with the juniors and seniors because she’s a very smart young lady.”
For God’s sake, Sam, they do not need to know my entire life history!
“She’s part of our family now.We hope she’ll be with us for a long time.” He squeezes my hand again and smiles at me and I wish he would just let go.
There is an awkward silence and finally Chuck stands up and introduces himself. Sam sits down and loosens the grip on my hand. I let out the long breath I have been holding inside.
As soon as the circle finishes the recital of names, I run for the front hall and am the first one out the door.
I hear the steady clump-clump of Sam’s boots coming down the Meeting House steps behind me. He must realize that I have had my fill of socializing and it is okay to leave now because he does not call me as I head down the street toward the Subaru.
Suddenly, I hear sharper, quicker footsteps getting louder. I turn and see a man storming up behind us. He does not look like a Quaker. He looks angry.
“That sign is an insult!” he shouts, pointing to the peace banner on the Meeting House.
I step behind Sam.
“It’s not meant to offend—” Sam begins.
“My son is over
Oh, my God, it is like Sam said! I must be thinking in Quaker. It must be this room. My thoughts are running around and planting themselves in people’s brains without their even thinking! Like an Immaculate Perception.
I see the woman sit down and realize that she just finished speaking and I missed the rest of what she said. Because I am still in shock that somehow my brain waves are broadcasting in Quaker. I am not sure if this is a good thing or frightening.
I hear the cell phone bird and look out the windows trying to find it. The sun is streaming in and I realize that it is warmer in the Meeting House today. Finally I see the bird peeking in at me. I am actually enjoying the sound the bird is making. And the fact that I can sit here undisturbed.
I watch a man hunched over, elbows on knees, head hanging, eyes closed. And the younger version of himself next to him, maybe a college kid, in the same position. And I realize they look similar not just because of their shape but because of their faces. They must be father and son. And I wonder what it must be like to pray with your father instead of pray against him.
When Meeting is over, a woman stands up and looks at Sam. He smiles back. She says we have decided to introduce ourselves after Meeting. I am thinking this is silly, considering it is the same people every week. How can they possibly not know each other? Even I can recognize them after only coming here a few times. I am also thinking that since I had no part in such a decision, I can just slip out the door, but Sam’s hand closes on mine and pulls me back to my chair. He stands up, still holding my hand so it is dangling in space. I look away, trying to divert people’s eyes from my conspicuous arm.
“Good morning.” Sam smiles and looks around the room. “I’m Sam Fox.”
“Ohhhh,” someone says, exaggerated, chuckling.“Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?”
Another chuckle. “You mean, like, here?”
“No, I was thinking at the peace rallies on Thursday nights.”
“Oh, yes, I think he’s been there . . . once or twice.”
More friendly laughter.
Sam gives a wry smile, then squeezes my hand and looks down at me.
What? I say with my eyes.
He tugs at my arm a little and his eyes answer. Aren’t you going to stand up?
I shake my head and look away.
He coughs. “This is Matt.”
There is a chorus of “glad you’re with us,” “welcome,” “hello.”
I can feel my face burning and my arm tingling.
“Matt’s fourteen and she goes to Franklin High. She’s in the ninth grade, but she’s mostly taking classes with the juniors and seniors because she’s a very smart young lady.”
For God’s sake, Sam, they do not need to know my entire life history!
“She’s part of our family now.We hope she’ll be with us for a long time.” He squeezes my hand again and smiles at me and I wish he would just let go.
There is an awkward silence and finally Chuck stands up and introduces himself. Sam sits down and loosens the grip on my hand. I let out the long breath I have been holding inside.
As soon as the circle finishes the recital of names, I run for the front hall and am the first one out the door.
I hear the steady clump-clump of Sam’s boots coming down the Meeting House steps behind me. He must realize that I have had my fill of socializing and it is okay to leave now because he does not call me as I head down the street toward the Subaru.
Suddenly, I hear sharper, quicker footsteps getting louder. I turn and see a man storming up behind us. He does not look like a Quaker. He looks angry.
“That sign is an insult!” he shouts, pointing to the peace banner on the Meeting House.
I step behind Sam.
“It’s not meant to offend—” Sam begins.
“My son is over
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