Healing the sinner

I was bike riding in Seattle and a friend called and asked if I wanted to join him for dinner. I agreed and asked what he would be wearing. At first he questioned me on why I would even bother to ask such a stupid question, but he finally gave in. Dark I think he said. I cycled to my favorite thrift store and by chance found a perfect white suit, think Saturday Night Fever, with a little less flamboyance.

I locked my bike out in front of the sushi restaurant and pulled the pants over my bike shorts right there, no one seemed to care. I had purchased a clean t-shirt and I pulled that on and then the jacket. I must have looked ravishing because all the gay boys on Broadway were checking me out, at least I think they were checking me out.

Dinner was boring and at some point I excused myself, got on my bike in my beautiful understated white suit and rode home. The next day my three young children returned from their weekend in Kansas and my most obnoxious child noticed the suit on my floor. She just had to see me in it. I told her to go downstairs, I needed to shower and that I would clean up and get dressed and she could see me later.

I showered, shaved and greased my hair back. I put on a white shirt, a white tie and the all white suit. I found some white gym shoes and slid into them too. My bedroom at the time was spartan, an extra large king sized bed filled much of the room, everything else was contained in a walk in closet. A perfect setting. I called my daughter up and when she entered I immediately I noticed cookie crumbs around her lips. She was 5 years old, but inside her lived a very smart old Jewish woman, possibly in her 80’s, a mean, vicious old Jewish woman who knew way too much.

She looked me over. I stood up straight, getting into character I drew in a deep breath. She seemed to sense that something was about to happen, we could sometimes play off one another like that, almost like there was a bond between us, as if we were related.

I quietly said, “you come here today as a sinner, is that right?”

She looked at me quizzically at first and then a slight, knowing smile on her face indicated she was aware. “Yes, I do.”

“Stand there,” I pointed to the top of the edge of the bed and she stepped up and turned towards me. “Confess your sins, sinner.”

“I sinned today, I admit it. I ate a cookie.”

“Nay, you ate more than one cookie,” I began to bellow.

“That’s right, oh you are so right,” she was quite dramatic for a 5 year old. “I could not hold back. I gave in to my basest of needs.”

“Let’s talk to Jesus,” I said and raised my hands into the air.

“Yes, let’s talk to Jesus,” she said, smirking.

“OK, Jesus,” I said, smirking now too, “heal this sinner.” And with that, she shot her hands straight into the air and I grabbed her on each shoulder and pushed back so she fell directly onto the bed. She bounced onto the mattress laughing hysterically. Her younger sister was already in the doorway, practically squeeling, “heal me, heal me next.”