Angela Josephine

“Small relics of the mouldering mass were left,
at once of substance as of form bereft;
dissolved the whole in liquid poison ran,
and to a nauseous pool shrunk the man.”
Dante’s ‘Divine Comedy’ as translated by Henry (Wadsworth Longfellow)

I waited patiently while the brothers donned the appropriate garments for the ritual of entering the sacred tent of Northern Michigan drizzle; first zipping then buckling up their rain slickers and smartly sliding small feet into rubber clogs to ground their tiny bodies to the earth in the event of a lightning strike. I felt self-consciously under dressed and unprepared as I pulled the hood of my wool sweater over my head and slogged out into this mystery in leather sandals. Henry, however, kept my hand firmly in his and guided me along the path, through the garage and into the drive in the back of the house.

There it was. The poison puddle.

We all squatted down, heads together in fascination at the evil slick of silver-gray that ominously snaked its way through the water.

“It’s oil! It’s poison!! Don’t TOUCH it!!!”

A command that both threatens and invites.

We looked long and hard. We considered it carefully. And we all agreed. We would avoid that puddle.With the understanding of that boundary out of the way, we were free to explore the alleyway. I wisely took my sandals off and rolled up my pant legs in anticipation of some serious puddle jumping. We spent the next ten minutes relishing the gift of rain and praising its visceral qualities with our feet.

While the boys were still caught up in the moment, I apologized that my fun had to end and turned back to the garage. I had gone no more than 5 feet when the laughter stopped and the panic-stricken voice of Henry (followed by Winston’s) gave me quite a start!

“ANGELA! THE POISON!! STOP!!!”

There I was, about to put my bare foot right IN the poison puddle and just as suddenly, Henry was at my side – his hand in mine again.

Disaster averted.

Great relief flooded us all and we turned back to the house together.

I’ve been thinking about that puddle. There is something both terrible and fascinating about it. I think Henry and Winston get this and that is why they are wise to go out in pairs and not leave each other alone. I think they are wise because inside us all is the desire to test that poison puddle. Maybe it is on a day when the sun starts to shine again and that icy gray slick pulses like a rainbow. Maybe it is inadvertent – we are just going along unaware and step directly into it.

That’s why we need our Henrys and Winstons. We need to stick together. We need to stare in fascination and horror into the poison puddle together, to know it through and through so that we become convinced of its lethal dose on sight alone. It is this awareness that then provokes us to virtually throw ourselves in the path of a brother or sister who is about to take the plunge.