Aftermath.

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Walking into the winter's sun in a complete daze, I found myself standing outside the church...

 Walking into the winter's sun in a complete daze, I found myself standing outside the church where I was confirmed,  and — where — supposedly the tunnel we had at the farm had led that hid the priests who had fled for their lives. I wanted to knock on the wooden panels shouting.

  "Let me in." I wanted to feel safe inside the magnificence of its beautiful shining brass crosses, its polished wooden pews and its huge chandelier that sparkled, catching the light from the sun — light that would beam down, filtering through the stained leaded glass windows. I didn't know which way to turn or who to turn to as I turned my back and walked away. It had been misty last night: the grass was wet with dew. I saw the odd robin hopping about to catch the early worm looking at me with a quizzical look...a tapestry of cobwebs suspended like swags of lace adjoining the old tilting head stones green with moss that are standing withered with time. Suddenly the silence around me is filled with parents taking their children to school where, I had been dragged every morning by the twins, kicking and screaming. Turning up my collar, hands in pockets, I headed back home, alone with my thoughts.

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