The days are flitting quickly.
This weekend it is supposed to snow here again; oh, the poor pansies in the pots in front.
Poor Bracha the Cat is still ill, expressed by her veryvery skinniness, and the fact that she, who has been so well-behaved, is daily leaving messes in places far from her litter box. Some of the rest of the time, like now, she is on a blanket on a heating pad on the little sofa, next to me. She still purrs. But she is at least 18, old for a cat. She is taking her time leaving.
She is another reminder that my body is also beginning to break in small ways that may not be repairable, and that I also am considerably closer to the exit than to the entrance of this world.
I went to the local indie bookstore again tonight, to hear our friend Chris talk about her recently published book: strong and good.
I made a mistake, last night, that I am ashamed of, and that I had hoped to repair today.
I went in search of someone I had seen last night on the street with a sign that said:
"Some food. A cup of coffee".
I was hungry, had a bit of time before the bookstore event, and this place actually had Hebrew National kosher hot dogs; so I ordered one, thinking that I would get a coffee to go for the man with the sign on my way out.
By the time I returned to the street, only a few minutes later, he was gone.
Had I been fully awake, I should have bought his coffee and food first, and brought it out, or asked him inside to join me; then eaten my own. After all, I am not on the streets; I am not having to ask for help getting a meal; I was not seriously hungry.
How could I have been so casually unconscious?
Did he find a meal last night, or leave hungry?
Today I came early to search for him at the same spot; he was not there.
I walked up and down the block; perhaps he was outside another store? No, he was not.
I cannot help feeling that he was a manifestation of Eliyahu, and that I failed a terribly simple test.
I hope he found food and friendliness.
I hope I will be given the chance in this lifetime to make a repair.