I buy Fig Newtons
occasionally. They
are a communion
with that time when Mrs. Heinz
would give them to me when
Dad and Mom, Reverend
and Mrs. Hoot, would call
on her to see how she
was, to listen, to pray,
to leave. And sometimes
half the Fig Newtons would
be eaten by her kids and me.
I’m not certain when I take
a bite I don’t hear, “The body
and blood of life.” We’d walk
across a wooden bridge over
a small stream to get to the car.
The silence inside
as we drove away.
-Byron Hoot
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