Count your blessings

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

of counting

my personal rosary.

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I thought I was confiding

when I told my brother I was depressed,

but he just said “Oh, we know.”

If you knew, why did you all do nothing?