Sheila's Dribs 'n Drabs

In Celebration of Thanksgiving and the Festival of Drabbles ... 3. Noah’s Ark “I’m hungry,” cried the boy. “Soon,” said his mother. “But I’m hungry now.” The ship had sailed through rain and flood while their village and all they knew was washed away—nothing left but the clothes they wore and animals crying out in the bowels of the boat. “I’m hungry.” They landed on a hill-top where Noah’s altar scented the air with the savor of roasting meat. “Mommy, cook for us too.” But the animals, dead and drowned on the ground were forbidden, and the beasts from the ark had run away. They shared God’s meal and promised to obey. Thank you God for the wisdom to learn what’s safe and what will harm us.

We’ve sailed the whole world over, haven’t found the rainbow’s end. We’ve ridden floods and tides and dreams. “My rainbow,” says God. “My sign.” It seems He loves us after all, calls us His children. I don’t know how you rebuild a world after flood but I know God does.

Mothers cried while children played and fathers killed the meat for sacrifice. Grandfather prayed. Saved, that’s what he said. Saved from wind, rain and flood. Saved from sinners who wouldn’t obey. Saved from… but saved for what? Mothers cried, wondering how to rebuild their lives. Fathers whispered, “We’ll be okay.”

Granddad keeps sending birds out—hunting for dry ground he says—but everywhere’s sea. My uncle says there’s some land over there. Mom says it’s got to be the top of a mountain after all this rain. There’s dead animals in the water—dinner maybe? Granddad says God says no.

The river’s trickle looked more like a torrent this morning. Still too hot, crops burning, neighbors gathering water. Thick black clouds rolling to the west of us, like midnight. Wonder what’s coming. Shem’s Dad’s got this boat-thing in his yard, piling animals in, and seeds. Says we should come too.