Center for Public Service
For the first thirteen years of my familial life, I walked a block to devoutly pray to statues with open arms, promising open gates- my radiant mother walking with once thin father, hand in hand like a teenage couple. My sister, with her thick night-black curly hair, skipped and fell every other step, not due to young age but simply an unfortunate quarrel with gravity. Always trailing close behind was my brother clutching his precious cards shouting, “I choose you Pikachu” along the way.
From kindergarten through eighth grade, I walked through the hallways of my Catholic primary school. The walls were decorated with images of quintessential heavenly salvation held up by blue sticky tack; the images portrayed old breaded white males sitting upon a throne surrounded by fair winged women. Although the perfect Kodak moment of God had never been captured, I was taught to kneel to these images that resembled many around but never my own. [excerpt]
This is the author's version of the work. This publication appears in Gettysburg College's institutional repository by permission of the copyright owner for personal use, not for redistribution.
Perez-Zetune, Elena, "Down at the Cross" (2013). SURGE. 52.