In southern Italy, I’d rediscovered my girlhood Catholicism. I landed in this abbey, seeking some sort of divine union. As brides of Christ, we wear gold wedding rings on our left hand. Most sisters here say they’ve found that miraculous faith. I don’t think I have yet.
Many summers ago, my family drove to Atlantic City, decades before the glittering gambling palaces. On a long pier jutting over the ocean, a horse and its female rider would, thrice daily, ascend a tower, dive down sixty feet into a small water tank, and emerge unscathed. Now theirs were leaps of faith.
Many summers ago, my family drove to Atlantic City, decades before the glittering gambling palaces. On a long pier jutting over the ocean, a horse and its female rider would, thrice daily, ascend a tower, dive down sixty feet into a small water tank, and emerge unscathed. Now theirs were leaps of faith.
