Prayer to St. Anthony

When I was a kid, my mom was always losing something. She was worse than Houdini as everything she touched disappeared. There was always the initial meltdown, and then there was The Prayer to St. Anthony. She'd day, "Dear St. Anthony, come around. Something's lost that can't be found."

Sometimes we found it, sometimes we wigged out more until we found it. Supposedly, St. Anthony was the patron saint of lost things. How he got that designation I will never know. That is a random designation. Was his miracle that he always found the crap of errant white people with too much leisure time?

My mom was big on St. Anthony as well as other holy relics, as my late Nuni followed the Virgin Mary and went to the shrines such as Medjugorje. Supposedly my great grandmother's vision was restored but I will never know as she died before I was born. My mom used to take the relics seriously as well as the custom holy water. Personally, I fell like scalpers sell to tourists there like we do in New York.

Anyway, today I lost my passport.

I wigged out and tore up my entire room.

I cried and cursed my life.

Then I said the prayer to St. Anthony.

Let me tell you that shit worked.

Perhaps my mother ain't so crazy after all.

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