I arrived at the Vatican before it opened.

The line for Saint Peter’s already wrapped around the square, so I skipped it and went straight for the Vatican Museum.

Somewhere between the marble statues and ceiling frescoes, I stopped looking carefully. I found myself reading room numbers instead of paintings, wondering how much farther it was to the Sistine Chapel.

When I finally reached it, guards shouted over their whistles. Tourists ignored the signs forbidding photographs, filling the room with pulsing flashes. The crowd surged shoulder to shoulder.

I found a corner, pressed the audio guide to my ear, and tried to simply exist.

~

Some time later, I was sitting on a bus with my head against the glass.

The bus lurched and jolted me awake.

Daylight filled the window. On my lap was a copy of my itinerary.

Another museum.

I groaned.

“Just stay for an hour,” I told myself.

Something outside caught my eye.

A church draped in red and gold banners. Thousands of people covered the lawn. Priests, monks, and nuns stood in clusters, their habits a mix of colors.

The Pope.

It had to be.

I folded my itinerary and waited for the bus to stop.

When it did, I jumped off.

~

For the next hour, I wandered through the square, found a patch of shade, and eventually settled where I thought I’d have the best view.

Near sundown, a priest walked through the crowd handing out thick booklets.

I asked if he had one in English.

He smiled.

“Of course.”

When the service began, everyone around me seemed to know exactly what came next.

They stood.

Knelt.

Sang.

Answered.

I kept one finger tucked into the booklet, turning pages to keep up.

The translations matched perfectly.

Every prayer.

Every response.

Every hymn.

Pope Benedict spent most of the service sitting motionless with his eyes closed. From where I stood, he looked almost asleep.

Then he rose to speak.

His voice carried across the square with surprising force. Everyone around me listened without looking down.

I looked back at the booklet.

When the final blessing ended, the crowd began to move.

Priests lifted banners. Incense drifted into the evening air. People fell in behind the procession as it disappeared into the streets of Rome.

I watched until the last of them had passed.

Then I folded the booklet, slipped it into my backpack, and walked back toward my hotel.