special, something to contemplate. It was a symbol of gratitude, of love, of observance, and of prayer.
Completely centered within herself, Greta paid for her soul food. Outside in the sun, she allowed herself to become caught up in the bustling activity of the streets and sauntered on. Very quietly she heard her inner voice whisper: See, Greta, everything happens for the best!
Chapter 7
She must have been walking for quite a while when she unexpectedly found herself in front of a small church built of old red bricks, with a heavy wooden entry door. Unmistakably a church – with a few steps to the entry door. Greta climbed up the stairs and was welcomed inside by the quiet atmosphere of the little chapel-like building. Everything within could be taken in at a glance: about twenty rows of wooden pews stretched all the way to the altar. Two worshippers sat alone on the benches. An old lady who held a rosary in her hands and a man further up front. There were small niches on the sides with small altars inside. Just to the right there was one dedicated to Mother Mary with many candles in front. Here Greta also wanted to light her candle. The light of the candles brightened the statue of Mary and caused her face to glow.
Something mystical always seems to radiate from churches, Greta thought. On the whole, the church was very simply furnished. She looked at the windows: narrow and multi- colored. The light in the nave shone brightly and one could see the dust floating in the air. The whole scene felt somewhat removed and almost as if from another world. Greta knelt down at the side altar of Mary, and as she finally chose a candle and deposited her fifty cents into the receptacle, it seemed as if her own mother was very near and images streamed into her head. It must have been sometime in the eighties: her mother with shoulder pads and she herself with a ruffled blouse. A smile flitted across her face: outfits like that looked like Mardi Gras costumes now. She could also see another church in her mind’s eye but couldn’t quite make out where it was. Maybe Italy? They often went on vacation there. Possibly Venice? The memories of Venice were closely tied to the sea and the many pigeons on St. Mark’s Square. It was trendy then to have oneself photographed with the pigeons. In one hand, one had bird food and the pigeons flocked to it; they sat on one’s arm, on one’s shoulder, on one’s head – it didn’t matter where, just so it was close to the food. Oh my, that was an awful experience for Greta. The photo that was taken at the time had a place in her parents’ photo gallery for a long time, although Greta didn’t look very happy in the snapshot. She wondered if the pigeons still played the role of “extras” on St. Mark’s Square.
The relationship with her mother had changed in the last few years. She “grew up.” As in every mother-daughter relationship, there was friction and the stress of loosening the ties was easier some days than others. As a teenager Greta frequently had such serious fights with her mother that making up seemed impossible. Exchanges such as: “You’re going to land in the gutter!” or “You’re totally hemming me in!” “You control every step I take,” echoed in Greta’s head.
A real turning point between Greta and her mother was when Greta decided to apply to become a flight attendant. On the one hand, her mother thought the job was totally chic. Jetting all over the world, staying in well-known hotels and meeting great guys would be pretty easy. And then the chic uniform that the pretty women wore – very nice. On the other hand, it would be better if Greta became a doctor or a judge. Since Greta had her diploma, she could go on to study at the university without a problem. Besides, it would be far more becoming to her, according to her mother. Yes, Greta thought.
Completely centered within herself, Greta paid for her soul food. Outside in the sun, she allowed herself to become caught up in the bustling activity of the streets and sauntered on. Very quietly she heard her inner voice whisper: See, Greta, everything happens for the best!
Chapter 7
She must have been walking for quite a while when she unexpectedly found herself in front of a small church built of old red bricks, with a heavy wooden entry door. Unmistakably a church – with a few steps to the entry door. Greta climbed up the stairs and was welcomed inside by the quiet atmosphere of the little chapel-like building. Everything within could be taken in at a glance: about twenty rows of wooden pews stretched all the way to the altar. Two worshippers sat alone on the benches. An old lady who held a rosary in her hands and a man further up front. There were small niches on the sides with small altars inside. Just to the right there was one dedicated to Mother Mary with many candles in front. Here Greta also wanted to light her candle. The light of the candles brightened the statue of Mary and caused her face to glow.
Something mystical always seems to radiate from churches, Greta thought. On the whole, the church was very simply furnished. She looked at the windows: narrow and multi- colored. The light in the nave shone brightly and one could see the dust floating in the air. The whole scene felt somewhat removed and almost as if from another world. Greta knelt down at the side altar of Mary, and as she finally chose a candle and deposited her fifty cents into the receptacle, it seemed as if her own mother was very near and images streamed into her head. It must have been sometime in the eighties: her mother with shoulder pads and she herself with a ruffled blouse. A smile flitted across her face: outfits like that looked like Mardi Gras costumes now. She could also see another church in her mind’s eye but couldn’t quite make out where it was. Maybe Italy? They often went on vacation there. Possibly Venice? The memories of Venice were closely tied to the sea and the many pigeons on St. Mark’s Square. It was trendy then to have oneself photographed with the pigeons. In one hand, one had bird food and the pigeons flocked to it; they sat on one’s arm, on one’s shoulder, on one’s head – it didn’t matter where, just so it was close to the food. Oh my, that was an awful experience for Greta. The photo that was taken at the time had a place in her parents’ photo gallery for a long time, although Greta didn’t look very happy in the snapshot. She wondered if the pigeons still played the role of “extras” on St. Mark’s Square.
The relationship with her mother had changed in the last few years. She “grew up.” As in every mother-daughter relationship, there was friction and the stress of loosening the ties was easier some days than others. As a teenager Greta frequently had such serious fights with her mother that making up seemed impossible. Exchanges such as: “You’re going to land in the gutter!” or “You’re totally hemming me in!” “You control every step I take,” echoed in Greta’s head.
A real turning point between Greta and her mother was when Greta decided to apply to become a flight attendant. On the one hand, her mother thought the job was totally chic. Jetting all over the world, staying in well-known hotels and meeting great guys would be pretty easy. And then the chic uniform that the pretty women wore – very nice. On the other hand, it would be better if Greta became a doctor or a judge. Since Greta had her diploma, she could go on to study at the university without a problem. Besides, it would be far more becoming to her, according to her mother. Yes, Greta thought.
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