Today my mom gave me the family Bible she inherited from my grandma. It was on my request. This Bible is special for a few reasons. It was given to my grandma by my grandpa for her birthday in 1956. Sometimes I would browse through it on those Sunday dinners at her house, not understanding any of it but marvelling at its pictures. And that is the amazing thing about it; my favorite aspect- many religious paintings by the masters are on display throughout. Whole sections are devoted to the paintings, so it is not a typical Bible that just has words. It's also unique in that it is sanctioned by the Pope, forcing a Catholic spin on it which sort of aggravates me. But anyway, the family name is on it, printed just for the ‐----. And I am the only ----- out of all of them who will pass down the name, skipping a whole generation of seven children. I was lucky it landed in my mom's hands, who was oddly the least religious out of all of them. In a sense I feel blessed. This book made me feel inexpressible things when I was very young. Merely looking at it made me feel holy, like I was born from a highly sanctified place in heaven where I will return after I'm dead. It has a certain magic, a power that only seems to have spoken to me.
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