Day 11: It’s fun to stay at the . . .
It was sort of like how I imagine a YMCA to be. The temple, that is. Back before the covenants of adulthood, when the temple was as simple as getting dunked for the dead. Coming out from still sloshing water (could have been a pool, laned off for swimming), drying off and shivering, heading to a locker room shower, the smell of chlorine on my body. Laughter, clanging lockers, and hair product.
Then, dried off and clean as a goddamn whistle, emerging from the white building into a Mesa sun, an adolescent excitement at meeting up with the girls — surely as fresh and clean as I.
But there’s more. In the glare of that manicured space, I feel at ease. The distance that’s always with me, between an ideal that my god wants me to be and who I actually am, is gone. At last, and for now, I am one.
(This is Day 11 of a 100-day project. For more about When I Was Mormon, read the introductory post.)