Saint Anthony Research Paper

Decent Essays
Saint Anthony
“Saint Anthony, Saint Anthony please come around, something is lost that must be found”: a prayer I find myself saying too often. It’s said as a final plea for help after the drawers have been emptied, old receipts and dried up lip balms strewn across the floor and steps have been retraced to the local grocery checkout. It’s said when the search for car keys, teeth or sense of direction is in swing and eyes are peeled to places that said object could not fit. The prayer has been used for playful misplacements to credit cards, yet almost every time I ask myself how the ability to lose things comes as a second nature to my family. I am convinced that somewhere in the Bennett brain there is a tiny switch that turns off the ability to keep track of one's personal items, if no switch was found, my intrigue in this inability would excel. My mother, sister, grandma and I have lost nearly everything. When my grandma was alive I would visit her house down the hill to find her dainty, frail fingers covering her mouth at that fact that her fake teeth were somewhere in the tattered home. A search party would break out among the nearby,
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I often find joy in the search. When searching in the comfort of my home or my grandma’s, we were and are left with the hope that this item, this piece vital to our daily routine has to be somewhere. I often ask my mom how she is so prone to losing things, especially her sense of direction Sometimes I go back to this Bennett gene, or possibly her frizzing red hair. Maybe it’s her eight siblings and a single mother. A house that large and so much to keep track of, no possession seems to be claimed your own. Even my mother’s birthday was lost in walls of their home as she went to the DMV to find she had been celebrating two days earlier for 16
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