. . Saint Augustine Chapter Ten Ellyn I sidle into a pew in the Mendocino Baptist Church and plop down on the hard wood, so grateful to be where no one can reach me. I pull my cell phone out of my sweater pocket and turn it off, then drop it into my purse. I look around and recognize a few regulars, and what look like a handful of tourists. It’s never a large congregation. I settle in for the next hour. I may just stay all day. I wondered if I could buy you a cup of coffee sometime? May I? Call? No, you may not call. If you have something to say, say it now. Don’t leave me hanging. My part in this imagined conversation changes each time it plays. I say something, anything, rather than offering that nod. I’m a nodding bobblehead. Soon you’ll see my bobbling figurines at drug stores everywhere. You’ll buy them as stocking stuffers for your kids.
