I often take public transportation to pick up Anna at preschool. The journey usually takes an hour door-to-door, depending on my tram and train connections and how quickly I can buy my tickets from the ticket kiosks. (And whether or not the kiosks are functioning that day or will just spit my 20 groszy pieces back at me.)
Yesterday I managed everything in record time and ended up arriving at the tram stop by Anna’s school a cool 20 minutes early.
Between the tram stop and school is a walk of about 6 minutes through an out-of-the-way little neighborhood and empty lots. On the way is this church that—unlike most of the churches here in Poland—seems to be completely abandoned.
Usually Polish churches have a lot of activity: Nuns and priests are walking around; people are popping in and out; someone is always arranging flowers on an altar or lighting candles or praying or filling bottles with holy water. They’re very open. If the doors aren’t open literally—like, propped open—you at least know they’re unlocked and someone is inside.
So I wonder about this church, where the doors are closed and no one seems to be about. Is it open? Functioning? Or just an empty building with the lights out?
If it’s any answer, I happened to be walking past at three o’clock on the dot—just as the bells in the bell tower pealed three times, emphatically. After that, it was silent and the church seemed to settle back a bit from the effort. The lights were still off, the door still shut fast, the courtyard still overgrown…but now there seemed to be a bit of life, a small sort of voice, coming from this bleak little building between a tram stop and a school.
Happy Friday!
How sweet and interesting. The entire day, the train, the walk, the neighborhood, the church. The ride back with your daughter must also be very interested with conversations of her day at school.
Everyone should be able to find a bit of happiness in your writing. I did.
Thank you for your kind words, Barbara. You made my day! I’m so glad you enjoyed the piece. 🙂