link above to bookstores near my home
photgraph copyright caroline gerardo march 2011
We have a man in our home we fondly refer to as Alfredo Sauce. He is the subject of all blame and missing things. When my favorite coffee mug (the one I imported some sacred meaning and sign of peace to creativity and Major Dickason’s coffee black) was found without a handle we blamed Alfredo. When the side gate cracked ajar and Honey our golden retriever lets everyone out for a romp, I know where to point my finger. If life was simple, we could pass judgment upon a fictional character among the cracks in the mortar. You would need not jolt to anger. One would never feel frustration. All I need to do is call upon Saint Anthony and he delivers.
“Saint Anthony Saint Anthony please come around. Something is lost and it must be found. If you find it please bring it to me, and oh how happy I shall be. Just keep repeating with me kids, and the car keys will be delivered so we may make it to the airport for our flight to JFK.”
Forgot we will be in New York on Saint Patrick’s Day.
“Will need to buy something green for each of us to sport in Greenwich Village.”
Carson pipes in, “Mom I packed my shamrock underwear from last year.”
“Thank Heaven something on you still fits twelve months later.”
Cars has grown six inches taller, a whole shoe size larger in the past three months, but his green drawers will still fit.
“Cannot wait to see the Frick, to walk my legs off and I will be avoiding green beer.”
“Keep praying Mom.”
“I found them. Get in the car!”