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Tuesday, August 28

Confirmation Class

Mami has wanted me to take the sacrament

of confirmation for three years now.

The first year, in eighth grade, the class got full

before we could sign up, and even with all her heavenly pull

Mami couldn’t get a spot for Twin and me.

Father Sean told her it’d be fine if we waited.

Last year, Caridad, my best friend, extended her trip in D.R.

right when we were supposed to begin the classes,

so I asked if I could wait another year.

Mami didn’t like it, but since she’s friends with Caridad’s mother

Twin went ahead and did the class without me.

This year, Mami has filled out the forms,

signed me up, and marched me to church

before I can tell her that Jesus feels like a friend

I’ve had my whole childhood

who has suddenly become brand-new;

who invites himself over too often, who texts me too much.

A friend I just don’t think I need anymore.

(I know, I know . . . even writing that is blasphemous.)

But I don’t know how to tell Mami that this year,

it’s not about feeling unready,

it’s about knowing that this doubt has already been confirmed.