Prayer:

Lately I?ve been waking up in the middle of the night and I?m saying Hail Marys in my head. Automatically. This may have to do with my grandmother, and how, before I went up there, I'd had sort of a falling out with my Aunt Bernie (who has always lived with my grandmother)and written an honest but pretty hurtful letter (more about this later). Sometimes, I don't know what else to do but pray. Hail Mary and Our Father are the only prayers I remember, and I say them like I am speaking to just a mother, just a father, not statues or painted ceilings. The words put me back to sleep. They are a habit, a hedge (justincasethereisthatcatholicgod) when I feel like I've done something rotten, a small talk with these forgiving parents.

School:

I was sitting under a pear tree the first day of the first grade, worrying about the mole in the crook of my elbow because my mother had made me wear a sleeveless white linen dress with red smocking, and she'd swept my shiny thin hair up into a French twist. It was recess at Smithfield Elementary, and I was overdressed. I felt exposed and flawed and frightened. I wanted a sweater. And for my long hair to come loose and cover my bare neck.