Mrs. Polson was my best friend; she must have been
seventy or so, and I was nine, but I think she understood me
better than anyone else I knew. 

The Baptist preacher told me once that this friend,
this best friend,
would be going to hell when she died
since she didn’t go to any church,
and it was my job to make sure
she got saved. If I did, when I died,
I could get a heavenly crown with a star in it.
I think it was supposed to motivate me
to get to heaven myself, but I had my doubts,
and besides, that crown sounded a lot like those
tacky tiaras you could win at the state fair. 
Everything about it
felt wrong. 

I did go next door to visit my friend
whenever Mama would let me, though.
Sitting in her kitchen at the red formica-top table,
we would split a ten-ounce bottle of Coca-Cola;
she would always tell me to wait for the fizz to die down
before I started drinking, and then we would laugh.
I think we both knew how hard patience is. 

We would talk about all kinds of crazy things, but never
about church or hell. We talked about songbirds and squirrels,
how much we loved the breeze on a hot summer day,
how refreshing it was to feel the coolness of the cola
on dry throats. But once

I told her about seeing a big green sphere  
playing all around the branches of our sycamore tree,
how it made me feel safe
and how I thought…the words
almost stuck in my throat…
how I thought
maybe it was God.  

Oh, yes! Mrs. Polson said.
I think that is exactly what God is like!
and we both smiled
and took another sip of Coke.