The Priest

My Vati mentioned this ancestor of ours many times, so I thought I'd flesh the story out a little. Here’s the first part.

***

Jozef Wawrzyniak took off his vestments. Confession was over, and the rest of the evening belonged to him.

A knock on his private chambers took him out of his thoughts. “Come in,” he called as he locked the closet door.

His old housekeeper bustled in, nodding her bonneted head. She made a curtsy. “I’ll be going then, if you don’t need me anymore, Father.”

“I’ll be fine. Go and have fun.”

The old woman turned, but then stopped. “I wish you’d go with my brother and me,” she said. “It will do you good to get out of the house.”

Jozef had just started his life as a priest in this small Polish town. It wouldn’t do at all to go with her. But on the other hand, he’d have so much fun reliving the best day of his childhood. Pull yourself together, he thought. In his deepest, most authorative sounding voice he said, “I’ll be fine. You go on.”

But the woman – what was her name again? Kloskowa? – didn’t move. “If you’d go, you would get to know your parishioners quite a lot better. Most of the town will be there. They would be honored to have you among them, too.”

Jozef decided that Mrs. Kloskowa had a point there. It wouldn’t be a sin and besides having fun and having something to do this Friday night, he could learn a lot about his new parish. “I guess you’re right,” he said. “I’ll be following you to the commons in a bit then.”

“Great. But don’t be late. The show starts in an hour.”

Jozef smiled. “I’ll be there. Don’t worry. Good evening then.”

Mrs. Kloskowa opened the door. “Til later.”

***

More about Jozef tomorrow!