Students showcase literary talent: Jan Nerenburg
Gentlemen, Please - Honorable mention in creative writing category - nonfiction/drama
Issue date: 4/30/09 Section: Student Life
|
I love Wednesday. Fall was just a tingle in the air, a stray leaf clinging, cadmium yellow, a hint of rose madder lacing its edge. I love color, love writing about color, love being an artist, love fall's dramatic displays but thus far in my life have tried to stay within the lines. I'd done well in school. When I was fourteen, I arranged my high school forecast with a university degree in mind. My father quietly informed me that it was a waste of money. Girls didn't go to college. Nonetheless, I graduated with honors from Riverside Polytechnic High School, got a job, married, had kids. I wanted to please, to do what was expected, stay within the lines, but I also wanted to excel, to receive the approval I craved.
For me the boundaries of my life are wrapped up in being wife, mother, nana, student (I've finally returned to college), teacher, writer, designer, artist, and Mormon. Becoming a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints was a good fit. At nineteen, I felt like I was coming home to a place I almost remembered. I was listened to, encouraged to ask questions, to be more than I was and yet felt fully accepted for just being me.
Each Wednesday I serve a six hour shift in the Portland Oregon temple. The temple grounds are brilliant with each season's colors, setting off the white stone of the temple itself. Calm washes over me as I enter. I am immediately surrounded by muted colors. The thin walls glow with autumn's slanting light, illuminating the striations within the thinly cut marble. No matter how stressed I get, I know that Wednesday at four I'll step out of the world by entering the temple. This Wednesday, I didn't realize how far that step would take me.
I arranged my morning to accomplish a few errands on the way to the temple. Today it included a stop at a local art shop, The Accidental Bookbinder. I pulled up and parked across the street. The sky was cerulean, cloudless, September at its best.
Entering the shop, I walked past Patty's little white Scottie dog, Lily, who likes to greet all visitors. I noticed that Patty wasn't at her usual station in front of the computer. Patty Grass is one of Oregon's top bookbinders, perhaps one of the top in the nation. Knowing my way in and out of her shop, I peeked through the open door at the back. The bathroom door was ajar. Where was she? Odd, I thought. A tiny prickle of concern formed, which I quickly brushed off. She must be in the studio in the far back.
Be the first to comment on this story