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Kathy Bradley - By water and words
Kathy Bradley
Kathy Bradley
A few Sundays ago, on a luminous October morning, my great-nephew was baptized. Sunshine slanted through the stained glass windows like a sword's swath, stippled the curves of the dark wooden pews with shards of golden light and afforded dust motes a spotlight within which to dance. While his parents met with the minister before the service began, I sat holding him, dressed in crisp white (a tiny shirt and pants, not a gown), and watched his eyelids, thin and blue-veined, slowly close.
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