My mother's friends from work, Pat Sarti and Pat Gonzales, were always so good to my mom- they all worked at the bank together. It was Pat G's son who sold us the Green Machine when I was seventeen. When I was 13, these three moms and all the children went to Atlantic City for a vacation. I remember rollerskating up and down the boardwalk- skating was the big thing back then.
When Pat G retired, she moved to Yardley PA. Not so long after, we lost her to cancer and all of us grieved.
In 1994, Pat S became my first landlord, when I moved with Liz to her basement apartment. She was so kind to me. And I loved the independence of my little apartment and new single mom life...
Pat S. is on my mind today, as she has been for every St. Pat's day since 1997. You see, her son Michael went to the parade that day...with a bunch of his friends. There was drinking and then there was a fight, which was captured on video. The video showed Michael on the ground, his head repeatedly kicked, even as he lay motionless.
This was the child I minded all those years ago in Atlantic city. The young man who helped me carry in groceries when I ran out of hands.
He never woke up from the coma. His killer never spent a day in jail. And Pat S. was never the same. I am praying for her today.
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