My instinct had convinced one of my feet to cross the street when
“I’m not nuts.” was how he started. I had to look down. He sat in a wheelchair, his hair hung heavy over the back like a tapestry. “I’m NOT nuts.” The streetlight made him look older than he probably was; more tree bark than flesh.
“I’m doing blessings,” he explained, so humbly that I had to take his word for it.
I still see him sometimes–my personal dream catcher, my voodoo guardian angel. I’ve been meaning to thank him one of these days.
“I have to explain to people that I’m not nuts, too.” is how I think I’ll start.
The lovely and very American Ms. Jablonowski can be found at littlevirtue.tumblr.com if you’re interested in more of her work. Which you are.
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