Sightseeing
If she realized how childlike she appeared with her face pressed to the glass trying to absorb every ounce of the city they were in, Zorah probably wouldn’t have cared a drop. It was breathtaking and far beyond anything she could have imagined she would ever experience in her modest life.
It felt like every corner was dotted with a church and each one more opulent than the next. She turned to Icaro excitedly, “will we pass the Trevi Fountain?”
“Not this evening but I promise you a day of sightseeing before we drive to my grandparents for dinner tomorrow evening. We’ll hit the highlights, but we’ll be back here many times in our lives. We will save bits and pieces for each time we come.”
“Do you think someday you would bring me to the Vatican?” she spun back in her seat to look out the window.
“And crush your soul?”
The sarcastic comment drew a frown from her as she turned back to him, “how do you mean?”
“Let’s just say some things are better left to the imagination. It is filthy. It is crowded with people desperate for even a glimpse of a judgemental fat old man who they believe is so pious and wondrous they cheer for him when he pushes his head out a window or stands on a balcony. They have beggars and homeless desperate for a miracle and instead on the receiving end of the police pushing them along and telling them to leave. The tourists flock to the gift shop to buy rosaries and little containers of holy water they can bring home as souvenirs neither of which should ever be a souvenir.”
“You’re not a religious man, are you Icaro?”
“You are wrong. I believe wholeheartedly in the same god you do. I believe in our creator. I believe in the devil. I believe in right and wrong, and I believe in heaven and hell. What I do not believe in, are antiquated systems wherein man abuse their power and privilege in the name of their god. They commit grievous acts in the name of a book of laws they themselves do not follow. They crave money, power and prestige and excuse their behavior citing they do it for the glory of a deity they will never meet because they are foul.”
“And you think you’re going to heaven?”
“Nope but at least the sins which will drag me to hell are not for any reason other than those of man. I do not blame others for my choices as a human being. I promise you, when I beat the shit out of someone or I take payment to line my own pockets, it isn’t veiled under a lie of being better because I pray on my knees for hours a day. Your uncle is a prime example of everything wrong with religion.”
“Why still believe then?”
“Because my mother, my grandmother and people like them are examples of everything good and right in believing in God.”
“How so?”
“My mother goes to church every week. She never misses. She puts her money in the collection plate and it’s always far more than anyone else in the church. She spends more time on her knees praying for the souls of her family than she would ever dare pray for her own. She suffered the losses of two children and her faith never once wavered. For every vegetable planted for our family in her gardens, two are planted for the community. For every gallon of milk our sheep and cows produce, two get delivered to families who need it. When someone in our community suffers a loss, my mother doesn’t send flowers. She shows up and wraps her arms around the grieving. She prays with them. She cries with them. She mourns with them. She doesn’t forget them when the funeral is over. She continues to check in on people who are hurting. There is one woman in our community who lost her husband and son in one blow ten years ago. The woman still grieves. My mother makes it a point to stop by to see her each week. One of my father’s cousins commented she should be over it by now and to move on and insisted she was playacting to garner sympathy. My mother threw the cousin out of the house and told them not to come back until they grasped everyone mourns differently and some losses strike some people more tragically.”
“Your mom is amazing,” Zorah whispered.
“How many times has your uncle counselled in marriage?”
“Thousands I would presume.”
“A man who has zero experience in the world of relationships, marital or otherwise thinks he has some god given diving inspiration to educate a couple on what they are doing right and wrong. My mother has people calling her all the time for advise and do you know what she does?”
“No.”
“She draws from other people’s experiences. She will introduce two or three people who have been in similar situations and ask them how they got through their issues. She prays with them for guidance and if she has personal insight, she shares but she wouldn’t dare give unsolicited advice on a problem she’s never encountered.” He grinned, “though after forty-years of marriage to my father she’s probably seen it all with him, except adultery of course. This she could never understand.” He patted her knee, “if we were going through a tough spot in our marriage, as all marriages do, who do you think would provide you better advice? A woman who has been married forty years or a man who purports to have never even kissed a woman?”
“The woman for sure but he has insight from a biblical perspective.”
“He has insight from a book written by mostly misogynistic men seeking validation of their egos.” He pointed out the window, “the Colosseum is coming into view.”
She turned her head to look, and her eyes widened, “wow.”
“Indeed.”
“It’s magnificent.” Her hands pressed to the glass as Icaro pressed the intercom and ordered the driver to make a few laps of the building. “How is it still standing after all this time?”
“A damn good foundation,” he joked and then as if a realization struck him, he whispered it again, “a damn good foundation.”
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