i found the prayer card from grandma rossi's funeral in my purse yesterday. corners worn, patina dulled over the virgin's face from where i thumbed it throughout the funeral, and occassionally, from the confines of my change purse, when i was nervous throughout the work weeks to follow. soft shush of the paper against my calluses as i palmed the reminder stung the corners of my eyes as it hadn't since the burial. brought to mind spumoni in fluted glass dishes, stacking magazines under shoot-the-moon when my brothers weren't looking, threadbare dancing elves hiding behind the ornaments at the holidays. biting the side of my tongue sharply brought a small jolting cleansing pain and i replaced the card again again between layers of receipts and business cards and folded envelopes with shopping lists hastily scrawled on them.