I loved Saturday mornings. The sweet aroma tantalized
my nosehairs the second I opened my eyes. Smiling, I wriggled under the covers
and stretched out my arms, pulling my muscles out. It sure felt good.
Cinnamon rolls. I could hear Sister Patrice singing
one of her show tunes as she bustled about in the kitchen. Saturday mornings was our vacation day,
though the Lord’s work never seemed to be done.
But Saturday was family time-when friends or relatives could visit and
when all the sisters would settle down from their outreach projects or vows of
seclusion to sit and break bread together. I, for once, was looking forward to the day ahead.
Those cinnamon rolls made this place feel like home,
which is why I loved Saturday mornings so much. Usually the Convent air was
chilly, damp, musty and silent. Rarely
were there any apple pies baking in the oven. But Patrice was really into
cooking. I never saw her as happy as when she was slicing and dicing in the
kitchen. She took a vow of poverty which directed her creative efforts to
fundraising and charity-anything to give money and possessions away.
As I pulled myself out of bed, I looked around my
room. It wasn’t anything like a dedicated Sister’s should be. To most people it
was pretty drab, but in that world it was borderline “worldly”. I had a crate underneath my writing desk that
was stacked with CDs and books. (Granted the CDs were mostly Christian music). Sister Agnes wasn’t too fond of Mike
grabbing his crotch as fervently as he did. I think the last popular album I
listened to was Michael Jackson’s Thriller-and
that was before CDs were even popular.
The rest of my memorabilia were books. I loved to
read ever since I was a little girl and that was something I could not vow to
give up. The head mistress, Sister Agnes, was very old school. All personal
items had to be filed with the desk clerk so it could be inspected and
approved-or rejected. Two generations away from each other, it was obvious that
my taste and hers did not match. I had the classics-Huckleberry Finn, Mobey Dick, Tale of two cities, Wuthering Heights…needless
to say, I was holding my breath. As I’ve heard another Sister say, “If it ain’t the Bible, it’s gotta be
libel”. Apparently Wuthering Heights had some explicit
sexual content to it, but me and Sister Aggy negotiated around it.
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