dark angel, red umbrella

After sitting in a stuffy, warm courtroom, listening to counsel ask the same questions, “can you be fair and impartial?” and feeling under the weather, I walked down Mission Street in the steady rain carrying my over the shoulder bag under my coat, covering my head with my hood. I was feeling cold and miserable. At one point I began sneezing uncontrollably; my nose was irritated. A man, in his 40s, from the came from behind and offered, “Are you walking to BART? I can share my umbrella with you.”

I was touched and slightly embarrassed—I must have looked like a cat in the rain. “Thank you. My car is not far in a parking lot.”

 I tapped him on the shoulder, “That is very kind. Thank you.”

It was another block and a half before I got to my car. I thought later I should have taken him up on his generous offer—that by accepting it, he/I would replicate it.

Sometimes angels are handsome Middle Eastern men with red umbrellas.