First Sunday

This is my first Sunday. This is the first Sunday in over a year and a half that I have gone to church–my church.

I am standing at the bridge that divides our town park from a cow meadow, chasing the clouds with my brush and palette knife, listening to the bells calling from the nearby Episcopal church, and remembering why I have been studying for over a year to make so many things — but especially this — possible. A few cars go by, the birds are putting on a concert, and I feel as if I have really entered the world for the first time in a very long time.