Proute Hill Church

I found myself standing in the old church, near the entrance. It had been over thirty years since I last set foot there, and now, twice in one year, I was back. Country churches have a unique warmth, small yet deeply personal. Friendship, I realized, is much like a small church. I was there to say goodbye to my loved ones, my mother and my godmother. The moment was filled with nostalgia and a surreal sense of disbelief. I kept asking myself, “Why take her?” It was heartening to see familiar faces I hadn’t seen in years, though time had changed us all. At sixty-seven, I too felt the weight of those years. Returning to St. Matthews, my childhood church, brought a smile to my face. So many memories flooded back. We offered our prayers, seeking strength and ease. The year 2024, despite its sorrows, brought my family together. It was wonderful to see everyone, from the youngest to the oldest. I didn’t visit the beautiful beach on the island; it felt like too much all at once. Today, my lower back aches, but I cherish the warm memories of July 2024.