The Lady and the Feather
W-r-r ack! I backed into the parked car and dented it in three places. The lady came slowly, deliberately, collecting her thoughts.
She didn’t talk at first, but just looked at my disheveled and hungry self. It was Yom Kippur. I wanted to go home and rest until break-fast. I was weary. All apologies.
She said: “Where are we? This is a church.”
I said: “A parking lot. I’ll pay. Here’s my insurance. My name. My number — (just don’t yell).”
She: “You’re wearing purple, the color of the gods. How beautiful!”
Huh?
Me: “Does the car go? Try it.”
She did, and drove away, but not before handing me a feather. An angel passing, for what is a feather if not a sign of an angel passing?
“Thank you for denting my car, for passing by, for crossing wings.” she said.
“Remember me.” I will.
Sharon Kugelmass
Yom Kippur . Tishrei 5773