The Angel in the Cobweb


lovebirds4 best (2)lovebirds4 best (2)lovebirds4 best (2)There are so many amazing Yiddish words that found their way into the English language, and we thought it would be great to highlight one.  To find one with a third definition, however, was not so easy.  We thought all was lost until we stumbled upon this gem.tush – See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.9NAHOSQf.dpuf

There are so many amazing Yiddish words that found their way into the English language, and we thought it would be great to highlight one.  To find one with a third definition, however, was not so easy.  We thought all was lost until we stumbled upon this gem.tush – See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.9NAHOSQf.dpuf

fabric angel by J. Casey 001original fabric figure by Jacqueline Casey

“The Angel in the Cobweb”

Think you could move that tush of yours and do a little dusting?”

It is a quiet question.  He will not fuss about my housekeeping and knows I am wrestling with grief. I avoid cleaning the room where Mom stayed on her last visit.  John guides me there and we stand with our backs to the late afternoon sun as it beams through a northwest window. He is silent as I follow his gaze into the far corner and into the largest cobweb I have ever seen .

Inside the web stands a breathtaking angel figure about twelve inches tall.  Stately, ornate, she fills the center of the web and reminds me of a fabric figure I  made for mom on her last birthday. As I try to photograph the web, the late afternoon light bounces about and the angel does not translate into the image I expect to see.

My computer spits forth an intricate, muddy scene suggesting a spider’s web.  I am disappointed.  Still, both John and I have seen an angel in the web and I consider it a miracle.  It is a gift from my mother.  It is so like her to send that type of message.

My mother is an angel many ways:

an uncomplaining vigil does she keep.

From nursing home, she spent her latter days

yet longing to escape and visit me.

My life and work is in another place.

The separation makes our meetings tough.

She counts our visits when we do embrace

and cheerful is her face (she likes to bluff).

She once did visit me, her trip sublime.

She slept in what she called ‘my Princess bed’.

And said she hoped to visit other times

the room with lacy pillows on the spread.

And so she moves within my web of dreams.

Assures me love comes from another sphere

where hope and faith’s forgiveness does appear.