I'm not quite sure which was more effective:
The short bursts of energy that fueled her flattened palms to and from my sleepy frame
Or the cold showers in bed that left everything soggy.
But got out of bed I did. How could I not?
"Won't you attend Mass?", she often yelled. More than once, if she realised I thought I could snore my way through a few more moments.
Everyday, like clockwork, she took us to Love; He lived only a few paces away, you see.
But she also knew that He often made a home wherever and in whomever he was invited.
She is my mother; and she was my first lesson on God.
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