Last night. True story.
A momentary snapshot from Saint Leonard’s, in Boston.
I used to wander in here all the time with Anthony, my gone best friend, when we would eat in the North End, the old Italian neighborhood where he grew up.
So, after the hospital, Ash and I wander in to see the art and the ceiling and the statues we light a red candle for Lee. Then Ash, little Anthony but Ash-for-short, looks up at me with totally solemnity and whispers:
“Mama, are we in the sixteenth chapel?”
I love you all.
Send a prayer, any sort.