128/365 Corpus Christi

Sal's in church when I get there this morning. He's setting up the kneelers for the wedding this weekend. "Setting up" means randomly dragging them out into the sanctuary. There are 4, but many couples only use two (or none at all). But he drags them out every time. I'm there to take plants away so that the bride's flowers don't clash. Whatever.

"Hey Bridgett!" he says, like always. "We did good with the Easter decorating."

"We did, you're right," I say, putting Leo down so he can look at the font.

"Pentecost, I guess we'll put up the red and white banners?" he asks. If he means the felt ones with all the words, the answer is no, we threw them away ages ago. But I just shake my head. "Oh, ok. I'll help take everything down after Pentecost," he offers.

"That would be fine," I agree. "Some time that week we'll work on it."

"Have you heard about Corpus Christi?" he asks. I hate finding things out from our mentally disabled janitor. Sometimes, though, he knows things first. It's a mystery.

"No, what about Corpus Christi?" But I can tell on his face he doesn't have any news. He pauses.

"Are we going to have Corpus Christi?" he asks, trying to be more clear.

"Well, yes, Sal, we'll have Corpus Christi." It's on the liturgical calendar. It's not optional.

"Nobody told me about Corpus Christi," he shakes his head like he's suspicious of my answer. "Are you sure we're going to have Corpus Christi?"

"Yes," I say more definitively. "Everyone has Corpus Christi."

"Ok, Bridgett, if you say so."

I've never been happier to see Gillian walk through the door.