in class exercise

I stopped going to Church

in my senior year of highschool.

My father said, "one day,"

you'll find your way back,

in a tone that sounded like

exasperation.

My mother said

nothing.

It's not that I don't believe in

One Lord Jesus Christ the

Only Son of God Begotten

not Made One in Being with

the Father through Him All

Things Were Made

I just don't even feel equipped to speculate.

Every Sunday, for the rest of the year,

my older brother and I slept in,

avoiding the 11:30 mass my family attended.

It started out innocent, my mother remarking

we should go together at 5:30 instead.

We got into his mustang,

put the top down, and headed toward

the Church.

Somehow we wound up at the pizza shop nearby,

at a whole pizza pie,

and I practiced my driving at various golf courses,

highly populated parking lots.

This quickly became a Sunday tradition.

We'd get home just as dinner was prepared,

my mother so upset that we weren't hungry

for Sunday sandwiches,

while simultaneously perplexed.