Rosaries

For my first communion, my Grandmother bought me white shoes.
Shiny white shoes, and white socks with ruffles.
At a store I ran my hands along the rows of rosaries
Watching the light catch the faceted beads
Of so many, many Hail Marys.
Now it’s your turn.
I try to pull up the location of that crystal curtain
Try to remember something more adult.
But all I can remember are my tiny hands,
running fingers along the future prayers of others,
Looking down at my new ruffled socks
And imagining that the right pair of communion shoes
Would make me popular in church.