month or so. I was surprised she invited me to help with our mission, especially since I’m new and all.”
“ Zaire? Is that out in New Mexico?”
“ Africa.”
Mother almost did a spit-take after committing to a large sip of her coffee. “Africa? That place is dangerous, please change your mind.”
“Africa is a large place, Zaire is one of the good countries. The church has had an established presence outside Kinshasa for many years now and they want me to come with the sisters to teach the children about U.S. Culture.”
Mother leaned back in her chair, pursing her lips. “You couldn’t pick the inner city or something; you know, somewhere just as dangerous but a little bit closer?”
“Mom, please stop saying it’s dangerous. It’s really beautiful from what I hear.”
She stood up from her chair and came over to me and stretched out her stubby little arms. “Come here.”
I stood up and quickly embraced her.
“ I’m sorry for being distant these past few years,” she said softly into my ear. “I was devastated over your father.”
I rested my head on mother’s left shoulder and felt my eyes beginning to well up. This was the most emotional I had seen her since my father’s funeral.
“It’s okay, we all cope with loss differently,” I said.
Mother pulled away but still held firm onto my arms. She quickly wiped the tears away from her eyes. “Be safe, you hear me?”
“I will, I promise.”
“ You don’t have to do this whole nun thing, if you don’t want to, you know?” she sniffled.
I stared softly into her eyes. I had a feeling she read my subconscious. I sensed that she saw the weakness inside me. A young primal female that would rather roam free instead of being locked in by guilt. But I made the choice to serve God. I wasn’t a quitter and I felt that my good deeds would eventually put me a lot closer to the pinnacle of spirituality rather than the depths induced by the vices of humanity. Africa seemed like a good place to serve the less fortunate without being constantly tempted and surrounded by American decadence.
Chapter Two
The single engine Cessna descended from the fluffy clouds and began circling the tree lined airfield below. I saw macaques scattering into the rainforest that surrounded the mud-puddled landing strip, which precariously seemed to stretch the length of three football fields. Sister Janice’s shoulders touched against mine as we sat scrunched in the plane’s small cabin. She quickly gestured the sign of the cross and began muttering the Lord’s Prayer underneath her breath while keeping her eyes tightly closed.
My ashy hand grabbed onto her right shoulder and I spoke loudly into her ear over the Cessna’s purring engine. “Sister, look out the window, you can see Kilimanjaro.”
“I will not look out the window until I feel the plane land on the ground,” proclaimed Sister Janice, as she placed her head on her lap, while clutching her rosary.
Mitch, our pilot, a handsome Brit in his mid thirties, wearing blue blockers and just a tee shirt which tightly hugged his chiseled upper frame, spoke up after overhearing our conversation, “Sister, I’ve landed here plenty of times. In fact, last time I landed here there were 50 mile per hour gusts. It’s a beautiful day today, nothing to worry about.”
Mitch gripped the scraped joystick and veered the plane on its final turn before lining it perfectly over the airfield on its final descent. Even though there weren’t strong gusts as Mitch had indicated, the small winds still managed to rock the small plane in a hypnotic and puke-inducing motion.
“ Hail Mary full of grace...” Sister Janice began reciting, smothering the beads of her rosary which glistened with sweat.
I began giggling softly as I watched Sister Janice acting as if the grim reaper was about to turn our small plane into a smoldering wreckage. Mitch stared back at me and gave me a sly wink as he held the joystick
“ Zaire? Is that out in New Mexico?”
“ Africa.”
Mother almost did a spit-take after committing to a large sip of her coffee. “Africa? That place is dangerous, please change your mind.”
“Africa is a large place, Zaire is one of the good countries. The church has had an established presence outside Kinshasa for many years now and they want me to come with the sisters to teach the children about U.S. Culture.”
Mother leaned back in her chair, pursing her lips. “You couldn’t pick the inner city or something; you know, somewhere just as dangerous but a little bit closer?”
“Mom, please stop saying it’s dangerous. It’s really beautiful from what I hear.”
She stood up from her chair and came over to me and stretched out her stubby little arms. “Come here.”
I stood up and quickly embraced her.
“ I’m sorry for being distant these past few years,” she said softly into my ear. “I was devastated over your father.”
I rested my head on mother’s left shoulder and felt my eyes beginning to well up. This was the most emotional I had seen her since my father’s funeral.
“It’s okay, we all cope with loss differently,” I said.
Mother pulled away but still held firm onto my arms. She quickly wiped the tears away from her eyes. “Be safe, you hear me?”
“I will, I promise.”
“ You don’t have to do this whole nun thing, if you don’t want to, you know?” she sniffled.
I stared softly into her eyes. I had a feeling she read my subconscious. I sensed that she saw the weakness inside me. A young primal female that would rather roam free instead of being locked in by guilt. But I made the choice to serve God. I wasn’t a quitter and I felt that my good deeds would eventually put me a lot closer to the pinnacle of spirituality rather than the depths induced by the vices of humanity. Africa seemed like a good place to serve the less fortunate without being constantly tempted and surrounded by American decadence.
Chapter Two
The single engine Cessna descended from the fluffy clouds and began circling the tree lined airfield below. I saw macaques scattering into the rainforest that surrounded the mud-puddled landing strip, which precariously seemed to stretch the length of three football fields. Sister Janice’s shoulders touched against mine as we sat scrunched in the plane’s small cabin. She quickly gestured the sign of the cross and began muttering the Lord’s Prayer underneath her breath while keeping her eyes tightly closed.
My ashy hand grabbed onto her right shoulder and I spoke loudly into her ear over the Cessna’s purring engine. “Sister, look out the window, you can see Kilimanjaro.”
“I will not look out the window until I feel the plane land on the ground,” proclaimed Sister Janice, as she placed her head on her lap, while clutching her rosary.
Mitch, our pilot, a handsome Brit in his mid thirties, wearing blue blockers and just a tee shirt which tightly hugged his chiseled upper frame, spoke up after overhearing our conversation, “Sister, I’ve landed here plenty of times. In fact, last time I landed here there were 50 mile per hour gusts. It’s a beautiful day today, nothing to worry about.”
Mitch gripped the scraped joystick and veered the plane on its final turn before lining it perfectly over the airfield on its final descent. Even though there weren’t strong gusts as Mitch had indicated, the small winds still managed to rock the small plane in a hypnotic and puke-inducing motion.
“ Hail Mary full of grace...” Sister Janice began reciting, smothering the beads of her rosary which glistened with sweat.
I began giggling softly as I watched Sister Janice acting as if the grim reaper was about to turn our small plane into a smoldering wreckage. Mitch stared back at me and gave me a sly wink as he held the joystick
Similar Books
