Elizabeth Taylor
Betsy’s
There was a coat on a hook just inside her door. A light coat casually draped on a hook and when I opened the door, the warm smell of cinnamon. Light came in through a high window and caromed off the wall; it caught the folds of the coat, which looked less like an object of apparel and more like some form of holy native art. It seemed as if the coat was hung there not out of convenience, but deliberately placed there, the cloth gathered in carefully artful folds, in order to be seen on directly on entering.
I’d been long on the road and had too many miles behind me. Too many miles behind, and too many miles still ahead, and opening that door was as near to coming home as I’d felt in years. The welcoming light and the consecrated coat blessed me as I entered, they blessed me as I sat amid the pillows on the bench and removed my shoes, and the warm smell of cinnamon washed away my many sins.
Blog photograph copyrighted to the photographer and used with permission by utata.org. All photographs used on utata.org are stored on flickr.com and are obtained via the flickr API. Text is copyrighted to the author, greg fallis and is used with permission by utata.org. Please see Show and Share Your Work
