The Road From Damascus (by Matt Crowder)I was sitting in church last Christmas when I realized Jesus wasn't there.
The thing was, I swear I'd just seen Him, standing up at the front to the left of the vicar. He'd been there before I arrived. And then He'd gone. I felt my heart pick up an extra few beats. I swallowed.
I know He hadn't been hanging out with me so much recently but then I hadn't really been making the effort either. My mum had said that it happens. 'People grow apart, Matt,' she'd say. 'You don't have to feel guilty about everything. And He wouldn't want that either.'
She was right too. He was generally pretty cool like that. But I'd just got used to Him being there. Late night angsty chats. Telling Him about all the fun stuff I'd been getting up to. Even when I was a kid and I didn't know Him very well it was just nice having Him around the house.
And then after that Christmas I never saw Jesus again. He never called me and I thought about writing to Him but it just never seemed appropriate. If I'm honest a small part of me felt relieved. He did have quite high expectations and I think I embarrassed Him sometimes.
It's just hard to lose a mate. Sometimes I'm about to say something to Him and I remember He won't be there just in time. It's a shame.
And Elvis hasn't been in touch for a while either.
[The short short story comp is announced and explained here.]
[Originally posted on July 12.]