The preschool was adjacent to the church
and I would whisper as we grew closer to the sanctuary.
I would hold my mom’s hand, tightly
and peak between the heavy double doors.
When she would let go, I would run down the aisle, the light shining through the tall blue stained glass windows.
I would count the pews in my peripheral vision.
I remember being too scared to go up all the steps of the alter.
I remember a three year old version of myself
staring wide-eyed into the blue light.