Worst part about church weddings is the church part.
While listening to a celibate give advice about the holy institution of matrimony,
I find an old familiar feeling as I count the light and note their focus.
I sat for years counting the triangles on the ceiling of St. Jean Vianney
Twice a week until 15, Sunday and Wednesday
Once a week until 18, Sunday
There were over 400.
I still remember the pattern.
I remember the feeling
my personal rosary.