Golden

Golden

I remember the only reason why I needed to know the correct motions to formulate a capital cursive “G” in the second grade of my Christian school was when I was writing the word “God”: 
Dear God. Thank you, God. God, why did you have to take Shanice?  She was only in Kindergarten and she didn’t have any time to do anything wrong.  She loved you, God, and I do, too, but I don’t understand why you were selfish.
Now I don’t write God that much anymore. I dropped that noun by the flagpole one summer break when I whisked myself away from that school in the 5th grade and started on an adventure that I have yet to look back on.  At this time, my capital letter skills are used much more for writing the “Given” to a Geometric proof, or writing “Golden” when I attempt to title a poem about Summer or Fall.  But I cannot help thinking about God every time I am forced to loop my pen up, to the right, and then sharply back down again. I title him with a lowercase- perhaps now out of rebelliousness, or perhaps because I find my god in more than words in a book.
Or maybe I just associate capital Gs with bad things.  Do I want my God to share the G with Gas prices, Guns, Gluttony, Gangs, Grime, and Golden - not like summer and fall, but Golden like the flame of the candle next to Shanice’s coffin, and the locket that was worn around her neck during the wake? Or maybe God, like the entity we force ourselves to commit to out of fear and loneliness, or God like hollow happiness we settle for less to find.