It was held at Lee’s church. . .
. . . but outside in a field, under some trees.
Erica lent me some clothes for the picnic, since I still don’t have anything for special occasions except my pink dress. The dress Erica gave me was green with yellow flowers and it had a little green crocheted sweater to match. I felt very proper with such nice clothes! But when I asked Erica if she was coming to the picnic too, she got a funny look on her face and said she went to a different church.
I’m not sure why she thought that mattered. Maybe she didn’t know that there would be no preaching, and that the only prayer would be an offering of thanks for the food. I’m sure there’s no religion that says it’s wrong to be grateful for food, so I’ll have to let Erica know that it’s okay to go to picnics at Lee’s church.
The picnic itself was pleasant, although a little dull, since all everyone did was eat, talk, and run after their children. No music, no dancing. But the people were nice. I already knew some of them from Northwind, the Ogilvie place, and a few other farms in the area. And Lee introduced me to a lot of other people I had never met before. It felt funny to be shown around by him, as if I were his girlfriend. But everyone was so nice, and they like Lee so much, that I didn’t let it bother me for long.
The food was good—fried chicken, fall vegetables, apples, wheat bread, something called potato salad which contained a lot of mustard, and of course ice cream.
That was what I was really there for, and it was so good! Of all the flavors I sampled, I liked the ginger ice cream best and I would’ve eaten all they had, except that Lee laughed when I got my third bowl and said I was going to get fat if I kept it up.
“That would be good,” I said. “I don’t want to look like a skinny refugee all my life. I want to look like I’m rich enough to have food whenever I want it.”
This made him smile like I had said something funny, and he took me to meet the preacher. He was a nice man, and he and his wife said they hoped I’d come to the church service on Sunday. I said I’d think about it.
And I have. I’ve been thinking about a lot of things lately, especially what Sam said about needing to change everything and not just my address. I want so much to be a good person—the sort that people can look up to.
So maybe I’ll try going to church and see if that helps. And I’ll see if Erica can show me how to make a sweater like the one she lent me, and I’ll make some for poor people, not just for myself. And of course I have to keep studying so I can get into veterinary school. And I also have to work, write to Auntie, and. . .
Oh, who am I kidding? At this rate, I’m going to be too busy to be anything but good!