Three of Them

"Sunday clears away the rust of the whole week."
-Joseph Addison

One scene in particular stands out from all the others in my tenth year.
I was at Sunday Mass with Mater, in a church streaming with the sunlight of an August morning. During the service the entire congregation poured to the front of the church to be blessed one by one by the priest.
I was standing crammed between my neighbours when I noticed that the lone priest had suddenly been joined by another fellow of identical garb and physical appearance. Soon the pair was joined by a third, following which I grew increasingly alarmed. The image of the approaching priests grew luminous and I thought a rainbow had splintered the air, so vivid were the reds and greens.
Beyond the confusion stemming from the irregularity lay a degree of worry regarding etiquette: I was not certain which priest I ought to look at when my turn arrived.
As it transpired, it mattered little because when I looked around again I discovered I was being propped up by a kind villager with Mater hovering anxiously by my side and the brisk early air brushing my face. Nothing untoward had happened; I merely fainted in front of a few hundred people, but certainly not before being amazed at all the colours and the three priests.
Good reflexes were in abundance that day: my head failed to hit the concrete floor of the church.
Though the memory presumably now belongs exclusively to Mater and I, it is refreshing to think of neighbours that leap in to offer help without a pause or the slightest hesitation.