we both live on

My mother was given a figurine of Saint Pancras (aka San Prancracio) for her desk when she was writing her dissertation in Spain. I was a small blonde roly fidgety thing and I loved holding onto Saint Pancras's halo much to my mothers chagrin. Saint Pancras was a Roman citizen who converted to Christianity and was beheaded for his faith at the age of 14 in 304 BCE. His name is Greek and means "the one who holds everything." My mother always told me that he was the patron saint of lost causes, but that is actually Saint Jude. Saint Pancras is the patron saint of children, and wards off against cramps and headaches. The last time we went to Spain for Juan and Jorge's wedding my mother bought a new one for her and one for me, since I was just about to leave home. He has broken six times in the past two years (at his neck, his foot, his pointer finger, his book, his palm) but I just keep gluing him back together and carrying on. Today he broke again on the day of my review, but both pieces of him cheered me on for my review and I passed. I'm left tired and beaming and he with a new seam of glue around the neck.