by Lewis Gesner
A boy was born to a simple woman out of wedlock. The father was an elderly fisherman. He divorced his wife and lived with the woman and their son in the work shed where he mended nets. There was a loft space with a triangular window where the child would sleep and look out at night over the harbor and boats of the simple port village where he had been born. As a toddler, he walked a dirt drive that ran along the shore and connected the fish shack to the road. One morning, an out-of-towner, a visiting summer folk happened by and stopped to talk to him. What was his name? Did he like boats? Did he live here? She was dressed in a long dress and wearing a shawl, perhaps she was going to a relative’s wedding, or visiting a local church. After a few moments, she stood up from her kneeling and continued on. The boy remembered her hair, it was golden, backlit by the sun. Her shawl billowed out in the breeze. He thought it was wings. She was an angel! When he went to bed that night, he saw her flying over the waters of the harbor and sprinkling it with magic sparkling lights.