Eucharistia


Eucharistia (eu-cha-ris’-ti-a): Giving thanks for a benefit received, sometimes adding one’s inability to repay.


Thank you so much for the sprained ankle. I don’t how to repay you. Rather, I don’t want to repay you. It’s bad enough that I’m limping around on a crutch. Two of us would raise suspicions—suspicions that there is something wrong with us beyond our ankles. I don’t know why I let you suck me into a fifty yard dash against you on our little frozen pond. I had to veer to miss some little kid and “twist” went my ankle.

This kind of crap has been happening since we were kids. I remember our garden. We aspired to feed the neighborhood and planted string beans. But before we even got the beans planted, we were raking dirt lumps into tillable soil. I was standing behind you. For some reason you turned your rake around so the tines faced down when you lifted it back over your shoulder. Two of the tines went into my head. You talked me into keeping what you had done secret. That night, I had more trouble than usual with my math homework. I thought it was the holes in my head.

Then, there was the “bungalow” we built in your back yard. It was made out of pallet boards salvaged from “Geiger’s Appliance Store.” we took them one at a time in my red wagon, on Sunday when the store was closed. It took five trips. We didn’t have any tools, so we just leaned the pallet boards against each other, and put two on top for a roof. I was first to go in and bumped a pallet board as I went trough the “door.” The bungalow collapsed on top of me. The roof gave me a mild concussion and I peed my pants. When the bungalow collapsed, you ran away. I lay there with my head spinning for nearly an hour when your dad noticed my leg sticking out of what was now, a pile of pallet boards. I don’t know why I accepted your apology for leaving me there.

What about the “joy ride” we took in my family’s car? Neither of us knew how to drive, but you insisted on getting behind the wheel. Our first maneuver was to back out of the driveway. You thought when you drove backwards, you were supposed to look in the rearview mirror. Remember? You ran over the mailbox at the end of the driveway and then drove full speed ahead into the garage door. You did significant damage to the front and rear of the car. When we hit the garage door, we jumped out of the car and ran as fast as we could to the playground, where we hid out for the rest of the day. When I got home there was a police car there. My father had reported that somebody had tried to steal our family car. Luckily, insurance covered the damages and we got off scott free. But, I wish the whole thing had never happened.

Well, all that is behind us. Even though I hurt my ankle, I made it to my wedding today. Despite all that’s happened, you are my best man. I hope your recent release from prison was a joyous occasion for you. 5 years for armed robbery was probably a walk in the park. Sticking up Cliff’s was probably part of a plan to improve your life. Good for you. I noticed you you put one of our smaller wedding gifts inside your sports coat—in the inside pocket. Please put it back on the table or I will call the police.


Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

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