The Normal Kid by Elizabeth Holmes

Author:Elizabeth Holmes [Holmes, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781467702614
Publisher: Lerner Publishing Group

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It was a few more days before they were ready to put the final piece in place, the long pole with a cross on the end of it. They didn’t work on Sunday, the day of rest, and sometimes they had to wait out the rain, or the paint had to dry. Dad told us the wood had to be painted, to protect it from rain and wind, so it wouldn’t rot. Together he and Mr. Kafuna had chosen the color—bright yellow.

“Very beautiful,” Mr. Kafuna had said a few days earlier, smiling, after Dad had painted the first piece. They both stood over it as it lay in the grass, gleaming and wet.

“If I could gild it with real gold, like a cathedral in Europe, I would,” Dad said. “But a bright sunny yellow is close enough.”

He and Mr. Kafuna both looked proud. They glanced up at the roof as if they imagined the spire shining there.

Now that the spire was taking shape, I could see that it wasn’t as elegant as the ones on churches in America. The base wasn’t smoothly curved and did not merge gracefully into the highest and narrowest parts. But it still had a brave, triumphant look about it, I thought, or at least it would when the final piece went up. It would be so tall and bright, so high above the trees, on top of the tallest building for miles around.

Dad went around looking almost satisfied, eager for the final step. He decided to make a ceremony of it. He and Mr. Kafuna would raise the cross early on Sunday morning, before services, and everyone could come and watch, then go to church in a mood to celebrate.

On Sunday morning people gathered outside the church. Dad welcomed everybody and said a short prayer. Then he climbed up the ladder, and Mr. Kafuna handed up the long yellow pole with the yellow cross on top. People laughed and pointed and chatted, and the cross waved high in the air as Dad, standing with one foot on each side of the crest, tried to fit it into its holder.

The cross made the spire top-heavy, and it was hard for him to maneuver. After a minute or so, he seemed to get it in the right place, but it leaned and wobbled when he tried to put in the screws to hold it tight. Finally, he called to Mr. Kafuna to come up and help.

Mr. Kafuna hesitated, then shook his head with an anxious smile. I had never once seen him on the roof—he only climbed partway up the ladder and handed things to Dad. I knew he was afraid to go up so high.

“It is too high for me,” he said. “Some other person can go there to help.”

Dad’s voice wasn’t exactly commanding, but it was very firm. “We built this spire together, you and me. You should be proud to finish it. You will have the honor of putting in the last screw.

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