This is a very emotional time for him. He'll get in touch. But Bert never called. Our first stop in the Quarter is a little doll shop on Dauphine Street. Since Mom enjoys all kinds of rituals, I don't think it at all strange when she announces that we should visit the St. Louis Cathedral on our way to Bourbon Street.
Mom thunks down on the knee-rest at a pew up toward the front.
I settle in one pew in front of her. The priest murmurs in ancient tones and rhythms. It occurs to me that I've never seen my mother pray, and I turn around just far enough to get a peek at her without her noticing. But when I look at my mother, the words hang in my throat. Head bent gracefully over clutched fingers, she looks so sweet and hopeful, and so alone.