"Yea, that’s me the PK" by Joy Rajan
I sat still, my eyes glued onto the podium. I learnt a long time back that if you weren ’ t listening you could easily produce the illusion that you were. O the joys of the being the PK - pastor ’ s kid. My father went on with his sermon, I wasn ’ t sure if he knew that I wasn't listening. He probably did. Yet despite the lectures he gave on obedience and the importance of listening I still cannot help but be distracted. This time it was the pianist who I was distracted by I can ’ t understand why I keep staring at her. She was young, not much older than I was. She was new new to our church and from what I heard she was even new to Canada. I wanted to find out more about her. But my mother got in the way as usual. She always intimidated me. She would always flock to new visitors and I ’ d be left standing awkwardly trying my hardest to remain invisible. ...