I stuffed my face with pancakes and bacon until my pants were bursting.
While Uncle sipped at his coffee saying our Unitarian Church was the worst thing.
Uncle didn’t believe that God accepted all people for who they are,
But rather, it was biblical exclusions that should set the bar.
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While Uncle sipped at his coffee saying our Unitarian Church was the worst thing.
Uncle didn’t believe that God accepted all people for who they are,
But rather, it was biblical exclusions that should set the bar.
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To which Uncle Maga replied, “Because I’m in Jesus’ image, a straight man and white.”
What Uncle said made sense to me,
And it was at that moment I began to rethink my mother’s quality.
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Until Uncle Maga showed up with a twirling football in hand,
With a gruff, firm voice, Uncle Maga started saying,
“Sunday’s meant for praying and playing.
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We can toss around the ol pig skin and enjoy our day.”
When it comes to tossing a ball, I’m admittedly unskilled,
But to be asked, I was beyond thrilled!
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I ran to the Triangle Truck before a chance of being uninvited.
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Guiding my fingers along the stitched line.
I’d never known that a thrown football had to twirl,
And if the ball didn’t go far I was throwing like a girl.
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Back and forth, back and forth, the gap between us started to grow.
My neck and arm started to hurt,
But fewer and fewer catches landed in the dirt.
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