Day 21

In the living room, the statuette of the Virgin stood on a little table veiled with white lace so that it appeared to be floating in the heavens. Her head was tilted upwards, lifeless eyes on a light bulb overhead, her hands pressed together in prayer. Was she praying for us? We knelt before her in compliance to tradition, one that we learned at an unreasonably young age, when all we knew about life was that we should obey our elders, but our elders are not always right. Midway I looked up and asked her, “What should I believe in?”