The hot chocolate that tasted like dirt wasn’t enough to steam away the winter chill that blew through the holes in our tights & openings in our scarves as we went a-caroling among the leaves so green.
We took the presence of a Nativity scene as an indication of a safe house, a friendly home, and we caroled our way through Christendom.
The glow from the tree gave the illusion of a gloriole, and it was to Mother’s light that the missionary angels were drawn.
Machines had kept my father alive, & I wondered if he was in purgatory, between 2 worlds, knowing if that machine malfunctioned, it would be the end of both his lives.
David’s allegiance to my mother hurt more than her deception; he was a beautiful accessory to her crime.
The Church admonished its members to be honest in all their dealings with their fellow man, & so I wondered about Abraham, lying about Sarah.
I had once believed in total autonomy—until I’d read the story of Pharaoh & how God had hardened His heart to bring about His purpose.
Removing Patrick from life support was in Mother’s best convenience, just as choosing not to abort Caitlin had been against hers. Perhaps she’d seen forsaking her life in the servitude of motherhood as penance for destroying Patrick’s.