April 3, 2012
Help me, Lord, for there is no godly one left;
the faithful have vanished from among us. Psalm 12:1
The strands of palm leaves tucked behind the corner of my mirror are already dry and brittle.
We stood among the damp palm branches last Saturday preparing them for the ritual to come. Mothers and grandmothers, we pulled the fronds from the water, split them and folded hundreds into crosses, leaving others long and lean. All the while telling stories, and partaking in the giving and receiving of parenting advice.
And with us too the teenage girls who had cajoled one another into being there, texting their incentives. They told their stories as well, but in that space they also overheard the tales of older women.
Now the palms have been dispersed and along with them the stories. The joyous procession is two days past.
I sit alone and cannot seem to find my way into the narrative of life. Dry and brittle. Help me God.
copyright © Anne E. Kitch 2012
