That I have two mothers is a natural fact more difficult to explain. All who ask deserve an
explanation. All who ask inquire about my birth. Whose body was it housed me? Whose
body shot me forth into the light? Both! I say emphatically. This is the terror of faith.
But why dwell on origins? Why study my physical entry into the world when you can
examine the here and now? Behold how instructive it is to have two mothers: one singing
me rose-colored lullabies in her rose-colored voice, one whispering nasci, pati, mori in my
rose-colored ear. Always two mothers holding me, always two mothers here.