Seeing Mary

When I was seven, I decided I was going to become a nun.  I went to a Catholic school, and we had just seen the movie "The Song of Bernadette." I was walking home from school, and as I crossed a bridge I looked down at the river and saw THE BLESSED VIRGIN MARY! No shit! I saw her blue gown and veil, and the aureole around her head shimmering in the water.  I knew then that I was destined for greatness and would become a nun and maybe someday there would be a St. Carol so kids could dress like me on All Saints Day instead of having to dress like St. Anne (my middle name saint) because Carol is a derivative of Charles and I couldn't dress like him because I was a girl. The next day I told some of my school friends what had happened. After school they walked down to the bridge with me and looked into the river where I had seen Mary, and THEY SAW HER, TOO! We formed a club and would pray together trying to find out what the hell Mary wanted us to do for her.  We never heard back, so gradually we drifted away from trying, discovered boys, and that was the end of our wanting to be nuns.  Years later I found out that in that pre-environmentally conscious world, the workers at the Ford garage dumped their used oil down the hill at the back of their lot, which then ran down into the river right where I saw THE BLESSED VIRGIN MARY. Go figure.  Mary was an oil slick.  Well, I didn't become a nun, either, so take that, Mary.