Mallow
White lace socks and baby doll shoes were worn along with my brand new dress. We went to church, the first church I had ever known. My small hand fit into his as we walked inside. It seemed so much bigger then with its arched ceilings and circular chandeliers. At Christmas time, the smell of homemade apple butter adorned the air and the largest chrismon tree I’d ever seen stood tall in the front. I sat between them, trouble and law. Nanny didn’t let us get away with anything. I waited for him to stand for the hymns as he was always the first one to jump up. I copied him. He was my friend. He wore a sharp red coat on Christmas. He was my Grandfather.
For generations my family met in this place. My paternal great grandparents were founding members who were long gone by the time I was a little girl. My mother’s parents attended for many years and they were the ones who introduced me to Mallow. We always sat on the last pew and PawPaw went to take the offering. When I was little, I always wanted to go with him but he always came back and sat next to me. Adam always sang on Christmas and sometimes PawPaw would cry. He was so proud of Adam and that made me proud too.
As I grew up, I never stopped going to Mallow. It had seen me grow up and stand in the front to bury both of my grandfathers. It was in the same little church that my parents met in Sunday school and then married twenty years later. Rich in history and full of love, I’ll always have a special place in my heart for that tiny Presbyterian Church. Over a hill and down in the valley in the tiny little town of Covington, Virginia is a little place that I’ll always love. It is where I came from, Mallow.
