Fridays (Friday Number Five, September 15th, page 2 of 16)


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I consider myself a fair shower-singer though I'd never dare utter a note in public. Sometimes in church I belt away a hymn if the melody catches my fancy and the rest of the congregation is sufficiently loud as to drown me out. Last Sunday a particular raucous tune heralded our exit from church and I was blasting away when Mr. Anderson caught me in mid-note and smiled. There usually isn't someone so close to my side. Though I blushed, I smiled in return.

I never eat before mass, a carry-over from my mother who grew up when fasting before communion was mandatory. Though the church dropped the requirement decades ago, mother never deviated and I followed suit from habit. Sometimes I feel a bit faint during particularly long-winded homilies, and I am ravenous after mass. Byrnes Coffee shop is my weekly stop. I considered asking Mr. Anderson to join me, but I decided against it. I do not want to display any interest in extending our relationship. He knows of my Sunday morning habit, but has refrained from stopping by the shop while I am there. This gives me confidence he is abiding by our agreement of Fridays only.

We are well into September now and the chill in the air portends winter. My garden continues to struggle along. While no frost has killed its beauty as yet, I fear for my flower-friends each evening. This Saturday morning I harvested what will probably be my last bouquet for church.

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