Indiana - Stray

My first memory of Indiana is visiting my uncle's church when my father was stationed in Illinois. Age is forgotten but I was young and it was the greatest place to be. While the adults muttered and danced around we played in the huge farm yard. They had the best tire swing I've ever seen and we played on it for hours, there were animals all over the place and huge fields of growing corn to hide in. We played for days and then it was time to go, it took forever to happen and it was over in a second. As the adults drew out their goodbyes I went into the barn to play for a while and discovered a litter of kittens whose mother was trampled by a pig. When I told the adults about it I found out the cat had been some wild stray that wandered on to the farm and that the kittens would probably die. I wanted them, I asked but I was told no. "Why?" I asked and was told they'll always be half wild, they wouldn't make good pets. That made them even more appealing so I began my appeals. I could only win their hearts enough to take one of them. We took the kitten home to Colorado, he was a great pet, one that fit my mood perfectly. We didn't like people fussing around us much, we found solitude in each other. I would read and he would do whatever he wanted, when I would look up for a little company he was always there as if he needed it right then, too. We'd spend a little time together then go about our ways, content.

I loved to read, science fiction was my favorite. I read two or three at a time, posting them around the house so one would always be nearby. When I returned to Indiana those many years ago, that kind of reading ended. In those days entertainment was considered ungodly, worldly, a waste of time, so I quit reading rather than put up with the consequences. Questioning and calls, lectures for days and increased reading assignments, particularly about discipline. I never told him that I took speed reading and only skimmed his books, I had things to say about them during discussion time and that was enough. I'd been to his home countless times but one day I noticed my aunt's book collection and among them were many classics, some of the titles were familiar to me and I borrowed one. I don't remember the first but I kept reading classics for years, a new haven.

My wife didn't like me reading, it wasn't godly enough, I should be studying and praying, I should be a man of God. Finally I got sick of it, packed up my collection of books and took them to my aunt, when she asked why I was giving them to her I said, "I'm tired of them." Mornings of prayer then work, evenings of college then bible study were taking its toll, I was tired of books and everything else. The days were dark and the nights were darker still until it all exploded into a storm. The gale swept everything away and when I was left with nothing I returned to my first friends, books. As I read alone in my apartment I realized that I had found freedom once again, that the storm made way for new growth. I knew I wasn't doing what I wanted to do, only what had been expedient, it was time to find who I wanted to be, who I was.