Yesterday, my wife and I, together with our fluffy boy, Brielle, went to our local parish church. We had to set a date for our son’s christening, which we agreed to schedule on the 15th of this month. Although I’m not comfortable going to a Catholic Church, not because I hail Satan and his minions or I’m a self-proclaimed agnostic, I had to stick with the plan and play the father part. So, yeah, we went straight to the office, arranged the required papers, and waited for our turn to be interviewed by the parish priest (which took almost 2 hours before we finally got our turn). The atmosphere inside made me felt eerie and uneasy. Not because of the religious statues, where devotees worship and pray to, that were present, but nostalgia suddenly came into my inner senses. Later, I found out that I was in deep reverie – my mind was summoning pictures of what my life used to be. Hence, to pacify the situation, I chose to break the limbo with a stick of cigarette.
