At Least They're Committed

Sitting on the front porch watching a red-headed woodpecker work on my tree and noticing how different he/she looks than Woody the cartoon and thinking that’s a good thing.

The tree across the street has leaves. My tree has buds, teasers of life.

There was no reason for me to be positive on Friday, but I was anyway. And later I saw Raphael. I didn’t know it was him at first and he didn’t know it was me, but it makes sense. I was on the corner of 19th and Broadway and I’d heard him coming up behind me, but I thought at first he was on a Bluetooth. He was mumbling.

But as he passed me I realized that wasn’t the case. He was filthy, a tan overcoat in 75-degree weather worn so as not to lose it in his oblivion. He was beautiful. If I were to guess he would be of Middle Eastern descent. His eyes and teeth were pure white, his hair was silky, lightly curled and deep black. His face was a light smudged by days of wandering. I leaned in to try to hear as circled me two or three times whispering quietly in words I did not understand.

Then he asked me if I was married and I smiled and said “yes,” and was, as is often the case, glad for the option. Two men, regular ol’ folks had walked up behind me as we waited for the walk sign and wondered but did not react. By then Raphael wandered into the street against the light.

“Of course you are,” he said, he was maybe 30. “I see the ring, of course you are.” He stumbled.

“Be careful!” I told him. The cars were far enough away but the light was green. “The cars! Be careful.”

He took the smallest of notice and walked across the street, still smiling bright, the other direction. And I worried about him and thought about Flannery O’Connor’s  “Revelation,” the short story I base my life on, and how proud I would be to walk at the end of the line and see these children go in before me. No confusion. No sense of entitlement. Just joy.

I was in an awesome mood Friday after sticking my neck out Wednesday night and getting it cut off, again, on Thursday . . . or maybe it’s just because I didn’t get my way. No matter, it took me a lot of courage to speak out and I was shot down and I wasn’t surprised, but I was disappointed.

But as I ponder the man on the corner, and as it occurred to me that it was Raphael, I also realized how my mood could have been so bright Friday despite the adversity. There are so many supportive powers around me — friends, family, Gabriel, Rafe, God — and as the beautiful Edith Hostetter told me years ago, what goes around comes around, but in His time, not ours. I’ve seen it too many times not to believe. And that’s good enough for me.

There was a study recently that said that, more than possessions, neighbors are jealous of how much sex is going on in the house across the street. I laughed. Fuck that! I have northern exposure! I’m jealous of the leaves, I just want some fucking life in my life.