man away and I wanted to stay in my room a long time, until I
got old, and I wanted God to keep my mother away because
she didn’t like me anymore and I didn’t want to take o ff my
bermuda shorts or show her any more and I didn’t want her to
look at me anymore, and I thought God should know I needed
Him and where was He? I thought maybe the man wasn’t a
bad man because they said nothing happened after all and I
looked grown up so how could he know I was just a child and I
wasn’t sure if he thought I was a child or not because I did look
very grown up and act very grown up but I told him I was a
child and he should go away but I said it in a very grown-up
way. I cried because they said nothing happened and because I
didn’t know if the man knew I was a child and I cried because I
wanted God to know something had happened and I was a
child and I wanted God to say w hy it was less bad if I wasn’t a
child because I was still the same me if I was or if I wasn’t. And
for the first time I didn’t want to be grown up because all the
adults said it was less bad. I cried because I didn’t see how it
could be less bad; and if I grew up were men going to be
putting themselves on me in movies only it wouldn’t be bad
because I wouldn’t be a child anymore. I cried because God
was busy somewhere else and didn’t come and if I cried He
w ould know I was hurting so much somewhere that didn't
exist and He could find it because He lived somewhere that
didn’t exist and He would know what I meant even if I
couldn’t say it and I w ouldn’t have to point here and here and
here and so I kept crying in case He didn’t know yet that He
should be coming to me now even though people were sick
and hungry all over and He had to see them too. I used to talk
to God, especially when m y mother was sick and in the
hospital and m y daddy had to be w orking so hard all day and
all night and God would be pretty near me, in the same room,
near me, and I wanted to know things like w hy anyone had to
die or be poor or starve in China, and if China was real or ju st a
story adults made up, and w hy colored people were treated so
bad, and w hy so many Jew s were dead; and I can’t remember
what He said but I always thought someday I would
understand if I kept trying to pin Him down and maybe I
could convince Him not to have things be so bad; and I had
complicated discussions with Him about w hy He made things
the w ay He did, because I didn’t think He did it right, and I
wanted to be a scholar when I grew up and write things about
what God meant and intended and He would listen to m y
questions and arguments but the adults wouldn’t; and I heard
Him inside m y head, and it was like He was in the room, but it
was never scary and it always made me peaceful even though I
thought He hadn’t done things completely right and I would get
calmed down and quiet even when I had been begging Him to let
