the pilgrim

When I was a kid and couldn't sleep at night I would read The Pilgrim's Progress. I realize that admitting to this makes me sound like I must have been born in the 18th century. It just happened to be a book that we had around the house. Actually, I hated Christian but kept on reading the book hoping he would meet an interesting demise. Nobody had explained that The Pilgrim's Progress was an allegory, and Christian's simple, gullible character offended my youthful sense of bravery and honor.

I was, however, fascinated by the burden on Christian's back. He believed it came from his reading "the book in his hand." He obviously had no idea where the burden came from, and I would spend nights speculating on the exact material that it was made from. Was it a rock? I knew that it was held on with straps, and rolled down the hill when he was finally released from it.

It may have been a rock. Some nights I thought it might be a bundle of clothes. My most secret thought was that the burden was actually a small person who clung to his back. Probably a child like myself. A young girl or boy desperately holding onto this incompetent adult named Christian, waiting for him to realize that he or she was there.

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