My family usually sat in the same place. A hard wooden pew near the back on the left-hand side. My mom made me wear a dress, wrangle myself into pantyhose and wear nice shoes (not Keds). We would go to Sunday school. The kids would wait in hallways for our parents' class to end. Hoping that there would be donuts leftover. More often than not, we skipped “big church” visited family and picked up Church’s fried chicken on our way home. Church was pews, pipe organs, air hockey in the youth building, polite conversations and boxes of chicken. At summer camp. Church was at the top of what felt like the highest hill in Hill country. We sat on dusty stone benches in our sweaty Sunday whites. Someone strummed a guitar and we all sang along. Church was aching legs, BBQ down by the river and clumsy chords. In college I made it to church on Sundays about half of time. Occasionally hungover. Always tired. I would still find a dress but had long ditched the hose. We shopped around but my fa