The Big Switch

Not long after he’d walked through the door he knew
it wasn’t going to work.
The room was small, most of the space occupied
by a queen-sized bed,
the dim wall-lighting unable to offset the drabness
of the maroon bed cover and maroon carpet.
The bathroom, closet and kitchenette space
beyond the headboard wall, too, was small,
which allowed little maneuvering.
Though clean, the odor of the cleaner-disinfectant
permeated the space, creating the suspicion
that what the place really needed
was a deep scrubbing and, even better,
a complete redo.

The next day, he was in a new space, the move from
the inn to the hotel, easy and seamless
at the mechanical level,
but beneath that, a major switch.
Only a few years ago he would have stayed
where he was,
(and did, in fact stay for a week in a similar room).
But not now.
Now he was different, a new man.
The small rooms at the inn hadn’t changed
but he had. He’d gotten bigger,
enlarging his view of himself, seeing himself now
as someone to love and respect,
a Child of God no less,
part of evolution’s steady move, worthy of the treatment
he has accorded others.

He awoke his second morning in his king-sized bed
in just the right place
situated so that he looked across the ample bedroom
at the large mirror above the tiled wash stand
and could see himself,
sitting up and surrounded by six white pillows,
his silver laptop reflecting the light from the Apple logo,
as he looks, contentedly, at himself.
His attention is drawn to the wall behind him,
on it a large, slender, hammered-iron cross just above
his left shoulder,
a picture that brings surprising comfort,
reminding him suddenly of his younger years,
ten years old, maybe,
when he would find security at night in bed
crossing his arms over his chest
before drifting off to sleep.
Has he gotten there now, where he sees God’s love
in the symbol of the cross?
He hadn’t thought so but here he was
sitting under it, thinking it, feeling it,
and wondering.


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