Revolution Prayers

          “Is this some kind of protest or something?” the bearded, red-haired stranger asked, as he walked by, carrying a box of wine glasses. He directed his question toward three of my friends, Julia, Joy, Clarissa, and I, who have decided to spend a portion of our Saturdays, before our local Planned Parenthood, praying for life. I considered this a strange question to ask four young women, carrying nothing but our Bibles when, only two days earlier, Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak resigned from office due to eighteen consecutive days of violent anti-government “protests.” The vast canyon of difference between four girls’ peaceful prayers and more than 250,000 Egyptian citizens, screaming, shouting and demanding political change was quickly flooded with a fundamental similarity; we, like the Egyptian rioters, are desperate for revolution, for a radical change to take place. 

          “No, we’re here to pray, and just pray for life,” was Julia’s response to our red-haired stranger. 

          We won’t revolt, with signs and weapons, but we will hold onto the hope of a revolution. 

          “Oh thanks. Keep doin’ what you’re doin.’ We need it,” our red-haired stranger encouraged us. 

Disappointmint

          I dragged my body into the bathroom, feeling the weight of sleep deprivation on my entire being. Being awake at such an ungodly hour was bad enough, but I soon learned that I couldn’t bask in the privacy of the communal bathroom this morning because I’d overslept. I walked in just as three other girls were washing the sleep off their faces and scrubbing the morning breath from their mouths. Just as sobriety hits during a traumatic situation, I immediately opened my eyes wide enough to examine and decide whether these interlopers would notice if I were to pull my toothbrush from my bathroom caddy and squeeze a squirt of toothpaste from a bottle in another. 

          I deemed it a risky situation and decided not to go through with it. My tired eyes, which preferred their closed position, finally adjusted and I was able to see my roommate standing at a sink next to me.

          “Can I borrow toothpaste?”

          “Yeah, I’m gonna go get some.”

          Waiting, waiting, thinking. Wintermint? Spearmint? Cinnamint? 

          Disappointmint.

          Colgate, Total. No clearly identifiable flavor. The fresh taste, gone within minutes. Nothing like the previous night’s Crest infused with cool mint Scope mouthwash. 

          I brush, making sure I get the back-my wisdom teeth are coming in.