Hide and Seek in Aisle Seven

Holy Mary, full of grace, help me put things back in place. That had always been her father’s favorite saying. Erin wasn’t sure why he’d glommed onto that particular phrase. It hadn’t been passed down from his parents or other relatives as a familial expression. She thought it might have come from a novel, the non-biblical part of it anyway, though she wasn’t sure which one. Whatever the reason, he’d started saying it more and more invoking it for even the most minor of dilemmas to the point where Erin thought of it more as his mantra than an actual plea for spiritual assistance. After he died she had taken to using it herself as a way to remember him; her version tended to transform its wording depending on the occasion, often in ways her father likely would’ve disapproved of. Holy Mary, full of dirt, help me fit into this skirt. Holy Mary, full of cheese, help me pass this midterm please. Once when she was trying to examine a red spot on her upper back, that turned out to be a zit, but that she feared might be a tick burrowed into her during a recent camping trip, she’d said, Holy Mary, full of piss, I’m not sure what to make of this. Erin always apologized to her dad every time she did it, but whatever guilt she felt hadn’t stopped her from continuing to paraphrase her father. Whenever she said it she felt close to him; it was her version of visiting his grave, since going to his actual gravesite only made her sad. Holy Mary, full of sight, what should I make for dinner tonight? Erin said this while scanning over the aisle of dehydrated pastas and beans. She’d gone past the point of everything looking good because she was hungry and was now disinterested in all of it. She just wanted the rumbling in her stomach to go away with as little fuss as possible. Erin walked to the end of the aisle and had just started to round the corner when she nearly ran into the little girl.