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Keeping Faith Keeping Faith Keeping Faith August 10, 1999 Under normal circumstances, Faith and I should not be home when my mother calls and invites us to come see her brand-new coffin. “Mariah,” my mother says, clearly surprised when I pick up the phone. “What are you doing there?” “The grocery store was closed.” I sigh. “The sprinklers in the produce section had a flood. And the dry cleaner had a death in the family.” I do not like surprises. I live by lists. In fact, I often imagine my life like a September loose-leaf binder–neatly slotted and tabbed, with everything still in place. All this I attribute to a degree in architecture and my fervent intent to not turn into my mother as I grow older. To this end, every day of the week has a routine. Mondays I work on the frames of the tiny dollhouses I build. Tuesdays I build the furnishings. Wednesdays are for errands, Thursdays for housecleaning, and Fridays for tending to emergencies that crop up during the week. Today, a Wednesday, I usually pick up Colin’s shirts, go to the bank, and do the food shopping. It leaves just enough time to drive home, unload the groceries, and get to Faith’s one o’clock ballet |
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