It was a Sunday morning. I was readying myself to go to church. I needed to pray and light a candle for the bravest girl in the world who was to have brain surgery. Having misunderstood her erratic behavior, when she was just hurting from pain, made me cry and cry.

As I rushed L to get ready, I realized that I didn’t go to the bank and didn’t have enough change to donate for the candles. Not wanting to be late to church but short of cash, I asked L, “Should I steal from God and forego the donation? Should I ask God if he could take a raincheck?”

L giggled. She tended to giggle a lot whenever I spoke lately. I told her that I wanted to say to a creepy stranger who kept on talking to me, “Thank you, now be off.” She giggled and giggled. Missing my husband, I may have joked too much lately. It was almost as if R was still alive within me. I found myself joking like him and acting like him. When I sounded like him, it made my head turn in search of him. But of course, he was absent because he was dead. All I wanted was a glimmer of him, but it was denied to me.

As we neared the church, which was near Georgetown, we ran every time a traffic light was ready to turn red. It was no wonder the city people tended to be slimmer for they were always dashing to cross the streets. Both L and I laughed and ran before the lights changed. I hated to wait for anything. Soon, we did not feel the cold for we were running. It felt good to feel the cold air in our lungs and laugh because we needed to laugh.

The service at the church was beautiful. I’m not Catholic but the setting of the church comforted me. When the congregation sang, my head felt light and euphoric. Did I feel myself afloat? The songs were carried up and received. Thinking that God was a little vain because he adored praise made me smile.

After the service, since I had no small change, I purchased four candles and inserted twenty dollars into the donation box. More prayers the better I thought. As I lit four candles, I dearly wished for A’s recovery. I prayed, “Let A be healed and become the sweet, healthy girl again,” and I believed it.

Once we were out of the church, we trekked Georgetown. We went to our favorite café, the Blue Bottle. If you could grab a seat near the window, you will see a tall tower. I looked at it and wished I had a room on top with a little desk to write and a window where I could talk to the pigeons. If some dashing man passed under, I would let down my hair so that he could climb up, and we would both talk to the pigeons—although our pigeon speech is poor.

When my heart was palpitating from the caffeine overdose, it was time to explore Georgetown. We aimlessly roamed through it. The winter scene of Georgetown was stark but romantic. I became nostalgic when I passed by the restaurants where my husband and I used to visit when we were dating. Swallowing the tide of longing, I walked on. But as if heaven felt my grief, a huge rat scurried past us, which caused L and me to laugh uncontrollably. Feeling cheery, we entered an Irish pub and decided to get drunk. The drink was good when one needed to forget. Once we were feeling giddy, we left the pub, running and laughing again before the traffic lights were ready to turn red.

Tired, we sat in the metro car, and I laid my head on my L’s shoulder. With our cheeks rosy from the cold and from running, our eyes looked dreamy from the memories gone by.