It is late on the day I am to post. Still, I wish come to you with humor and memory and the blending of them in my world.
My poor mother while seven months pregnant with me, journeyed in the sweltering heat, long and arduous hours from Brooklyn to the Shrine of Saint Anne in Quebec, Canada.
There she said the stations to the cross and several rosaries, on her knees, while seven months pregnant, in the sweltering heat. She purchased special holy water and crushed rose petals for insurance and to place in front of her statue at home.
Saint Anne is the Patron Saint of Mothers, and mine wanted her last and most “unexpected” pregnancy to be a girl child. For as she told my brothers many times, a girl child is the only real comfort a mother can ever expect to have.
Boy was she surprised.
I might have made them up.
fOIS In The City