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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2151952-Morning-Routine
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Activity · #2151952
A day in the life of a small town priest - 2016
         He woke up early, but of his own accord. The sun had just risen, and his body knew that it was time. His body had been accustomed to this schedule by many years of repetition. He stepped out of bed and dressed himself. He went to the restroom and rubbed his face contemplatively for a moment, glad that today was not a shaving day. After finishing his business, he returned to the bedroom to make his bed and say his morning prayers.
         Rising to his feet from his rickety knees, he leaned heavily on the bedframe. Looking out the window, he saw that the sun shone down brightly today. He smiled a moment at the beauty of it, before letting himself frown at the heavy vestments he would have to wear. He shook his head, as if to dispel the disagreeable thoughts, and allowed the smile to return as he got dressed. He stepped out the front door and nearly walked right into a young woman passing by his house.
“Pardon me, I’m so sorry, my dear. Good morning to you!” He quickly apologized.
“Oh, nothing to apologize for, father.” She replied cheerily, “And a good morning to you too!”
         They both continued on their way, her down the side walk and he to the crosswalk, where he pushed the button and patiently waited for the signal to turn. After less than a minute, the walk sign blinked on and he began to cross. He waved at driver of the car that was stopped at the light, recognizing him from the congregation. The driver waved back sleepily.
         Reaching the other side of the street, the old man drew a ring of keys from his pocket and, with the ease gained from much practice, selected the correct key from the many on the ring, and unlocked the door to the church. He made his way to the closet in the back and retrieved a broom and dustpan to begin his daily ritual of preparing the building for his congregation.
         Having swept, he emptied the dustpan into the small trash barrel in the supply closet and returned the broom and dustpan to their respective places. Next he got a cloth and bottle of cleaning spray and began wiping down the pews, one by one. His back always hurt after bending over to reach them, but this was part of the morning routine, and not something he would leave out.
         Next he went to each bible, carefully tucked into the pouches on the backs of the pews, and used the attached ribbons to mark the page relevant to the topic he planned to give his sermon on that day. After returning each book to its place, he pulled his own bible from its place behind the pulpit.
         He didn’t really need the copy, as he knew each page by heart, but he would always read the section before his parishioners arrived, as a sort of preparation. His bible was old, nearly as old as he was, as it was given to him for his own confirmation. The pages were well worn and the leather cover was smoothed and worn by the years. He always smiled when looking at the bible, remembering the days of his youth spent reading it and learning it.
         Stirring himself from momentary reverie, he placed the bible on his lectern, open to the correct page. He began to read, re-familiarizing himself with the day’s topic. He allowed himself to enter his own world as he focused on the text, ignoring his surroundings. He was only awoken from this state when he heard the door open.
         He calmly looked up to see a young man in similar vestments to his running down the aisle towards him. The old man patiently waited for the younger one to arrive in front of him and catch his breath before addressing him.
“Good morning, my son.” The old man calmly greeted him.
“Good morning, father.” The young man answered after finally catching his breath, “I am terribly sorry for my tardiness. I was driving over when I noticed a man with a flat tire on the side of the road. I saw it as my duty to help my fellow man, so I stopped and helped him to change the tire.”
         The older man held up his hand to silence his underling.
“You did the right thing. I accept your apology, Reverend Deacon. Now begin your preparations.” He replied.
“Thank you father, right away.” The deacon replied before going to the back of the pulpit to retrieve his own copy of the bible that he kept at the church.
The old man allowed himself to focus on his bible once more, and remained focused until he had finished rereading the section. Upon completion, he went to perform his last morning task before his flock arrived.
“I will return shortly.” He informed the deacon before proceeding to the back door of the main room. The deacon nodded respectfully in acknowledgment before returning to his preparations.
         The old man once again withdrew the ring of keys from his pocket and selected the correct one to open the back door. Upon entering the room, he immediately locked the door behind him. From here he walked through the room to another door and again unlocked it. This door led to a descending staircase, which he stepped onto before locking this door behind him as well.
         The old man proceeded down the stairs, listening to both his knees and each step creek with age. Finally he reached the bottom of the stairs and the final door. This one did not require a key, but instead was held shut by a heavy latch. Before continuing through this door, the old man took an old gas lantern from a shelf beside it and, with the ease of practice, lit it with a match from the book he kept beside it on the shelf. Placing the, now lit, lantern back on the shelf, the old man slowly, and with great effort, pulled the latch aside and opened the door. He once more picked up the lantern, and entered the last room.
         The light from the lantern easily illuminated the small room and allowed the old man to continue with his routine. He crossed the room in just a few steps and knelt down beside the far wall. He placed the lantern on the ground and inspected the two iron rings attached to the wall. Next, he checked over each link of the iron chain attached to the iron rings. Next he unwound the bandages from the hands and head of the man held by the rings. He put them in a bag, to be disposed of later, and took a roll of fresh bandages from his pocket. He rewrapped the man’s injuries and tied them off securely. Next he did the same to the wounds on the man’s feet. Lastly, he pulled a large amount of bandages from the man’s side and put those in the bag as well. He covered the larger injury with a stronger grade of bandages, then cleaned the floor around the man, where the blood from this wound had fallen while he had been changing the bandages. With all this completed, he leaned over the man and gave him a single kiss on his forehead. Having finished this, he turned and left the room, being sure to extinguish his lantern before returning it to the shelf and to latch the bolt on the door.
         Pausing a moment, the old man heard footsteps on the floor above him. Just on time, as always. With a smile on his face, he began the climb back up the stairs to begin the day’s sermon. The morning routine was over, time to greet his flock.
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