I remember my first Communion because of the dress. .
I was in second grade. My mom took me shopping, and somewhere in the Sears department store that smelled of mothballs and grandma’s couch, we found a section that was filled with dreamy first Communion dresses.
The one I chose was cream, with silk as the under-layer and a sheer layer of frothy tulle on top. A smooth, satiny ribbon wove in and out along the waistband. In back, two lengths of this ribbon hung down and could be tied in a bow to hang down my back.
I loved it. I wanted to wear it all day with my soft, cream colored tights, and the patent leather shoes we bought with the heel that clicked when I walked. When I twirled around, the skirt circled around me. I flung my arms out and tapped my shoes like a ballerina dancer. I felt beautiful.
My mom made me put
it back in the plastic bag in my closet. I cried.
“Nicole, that’s a special dress, for your first Communion. You’ll get
to wear it to church next week,” she said.
I was excited when the day came. I got dressed and my mom combed and braided my long, dark hair into a French braid, the way I liked it. We were going to have a party after church. Everybody was coming over. Both Grandmas and Grandpas, my cousins and some aunts and uncles. My mom bought my favorite cake, a white cake with white frosting. The cake had blue cursive writing on it that said, “Congratulations, Nicole!”
In the car, my parents reminded me to follow Father Nathan and Mrs. Koob’s instructions.
“Make sure you pay extra attention. Sit, stand, and kneel when you are supposed to,” my mom said. “You did a practice run, right? Remember, everyone’s going to be watching you. Make sure you follow the line- after you go to the altar to receive communion, you walk in front of the pews and go around to get back to your seat.”
I worried about making a mistake. Luckily, Leanne Ashbeck would be in front of me, since her name came before mine. I liked being near the front, but not first. We would stick together on things like this. If she made a mistake, I would too. That way we’d both be made fun of.
As I walked up the center aisle to Father Nathan, I was terrified. I couldn’t remember which hand to hold out for the communion. Was it both? I crossed them, and opened my palms to him. But which hand picks up the communion and puts it in my mouth? I started sweating and my mouth got dry. I blacked out the part where I put the communion in my mouth. Then I looked up at Father Nathan. From far away, I heard him repeat, “Body of Christ.” He looked at me.
“What I am supposed to do now?” I thought. I felt dizzy and hot. Oh! “Amen,” I said. Then I remembered: make the sign of the cross. I was relieved. It seemed like I was standing in front of Father Nathan forever.
I slowly walked back to my seat in the front pew. I saw Leanne’s blond head in front of me and followed her. We finally made it back to our seats and sat down. I heard Mrs. Koob hiss from behind us, “Kneel down! Kneel down!” That’s when I became conscious of the horrible thing on my tongue. “Leanne,” I whispered, “This tastes like cardboard. I need some water!” She nodded.
The whole thing was a disappointment. All this dressing up, doing everything perfectly, and for what? In school Mrs. Koob told us we were going to receive the body of Jesus. I didn’t think that cardboard wafer was the body of Jesus. What a crazy idea. Why would I want to eat the body of Jesus? Instead of staying in the pew and teasing my little sister, I had to go to the altar and take communion when my parents did. I did not understand why I had to start acting like an adult when I was only in second grade.