Carmichael, California

Every Saturday afternoon we’d go to confession with Mom. We’d go for peace. We’d confess our sins for peace.

Mom’d go in. I’d wait with the three other children. I was the oldest, of course. Then Mom’d come out and I’d go in and say my peace. The three other children would go in after me—Ina, Chris, and Jay. Eric never went to confession. Mary used to, but Joe and Jim never did. The old way of going to confession and Sunday mass was breaking up in the late sixties and early seventies. I’d fallen out too.

Want to read the rest?
Please login.
New to Narrative? sign up.
It's easy and free.