Papa Said

Papa said he didn’t need to go to church on Sunday morning because his church was out on the lake. He’d take his boat out and sit quietly in the morning air, waiting for a catfish to take his bait. It was a spiritual experience.

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “papa said.”


Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

10 thoughts on “Papa Said”

  1. Joy had met her father late in life… after having been raised by a mother consumed with a vicious understanding of the Bible and hellfire. Joy was …. different. She saw things she shouldn’t. She communed with the dead, she could sense when disaster would strike. And she was absolutely sure she was quite damned as a result. But recently she had found her papa… the quiet man living on the edge of the Blue Ridge Mountains. He told a different tale about who she was…

    1. Children! Please! You mustn’t go swimming in the river, there is a danger of catching a disease or even of drowning. You could get swept away by hidden currents or get bitten by mosquitoes or the sharp teeth of dangerous fish lurking under water. Yes we can Mum! Papa said~~~

  2. This was the second trip to Mexico that Carla was taking, but this one wasn’t for vacation, it was for a burial—her best friend’s burial. They had been friends since college and despite the distance, their friendship had survived. Initially it was through snail mail, somewhat of a lost art currently, then came email and finally the wonder of Skype.

    It had been so sudden. Carla could not fathom that she was gone. She felt compelled to pay her last respects and as she sat in her seat submerged in her own thoughts, she kept thinking about what her Papa said, “‘The dead are always owed respect. It helps them to transcend.'”

  3. Papa said a lot of things. He asked us not to ride bicycles(a boy thing”); not to wander barefoot in the summer afternoons , not to eat raw guavas plucked on the sly, not to drink iced water after a sweaty trip back home,lots of’ not to do’s ‘ and very few’ do’s’. The more out spoken among us would question his propagation of the act of ‘non-living’.But I , for one believed in quietly doing my thing, without much fanfare, which is why ,here I am, hair flying in the breeze as I race my scooter round the block. What was that papa, again, about this being a ‘guy thing’?

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