remembering your origin story
It was Halloween, and we stood in the alcove of the Monastery of the Precious Blood.
My canvassing partner rang the bell. We waited. Normally we’d have left a door hanger and gone after half a minute, but we waited a long while. For as strange as we felt trying to convince sixteen Sisters Adorers of the Precious Blood to vote that Tuesday, we were shamelessly curious.
I was remembering a line from Excess of Being: “Don’t cushion your life with too much caution,” says Lera Auerbach.
No cushion here, Lera.
After a minute, a wooden slat opened. Through the grate, a woman’s face, her hairline a white and blue habit.
“Good morning, Sister,” we said.
“Good morning,” she returned, predictably a little skeptical of us two in our red shirts, clipboards at our hips.