It is a bright fall day outside.
Just two friends having a conversation. I am sucking down my espresso and she is having a capuccino. Gail, that tall, short haired lady who works there, comes over to our table and says that she found something interesting. It was on the dumpster when she took out the trash. Gail hands me a small clear envelope. She says that it was taped to the side of the dumpster. I open the envelope and it is full of old religious medals and prayer cards. The sort of relics that you might collect during a lifetime of being a devout Catholic. But saved in an envelope and taped to the side of a dumpster. And found by Gail and delivered into my hands. My hands. I am a Catholic and I go to mass. And I eat the consecrated host. And I drink the holy wine turned into blood. And I sin. And I repent.
And I say the prayers. And I doubt sometimes. And I believe sometimes.
And this little envelope comes into my hands. The oldest looking medal in the envelope is a small grey Saint Anthony medal. It has a small red glass bead on the back that is holding a tiny little piece of cloth. And it says Saint Anthony relic on the medal. When you lose something you are suppose to pray to Saint Anthony and the thing will be found. Mickey tells me you ask Saint Anthony for help in finding a mate. At least they do in Mexico. On a bright fall day , Saint Anthony finds me. He finds me. Me in my envelope with all of my relics. Who asked him to do this?