Angels in America

I had spent a long and lovely weekend celebrating Passover with my family, and on the way home from my brother's house, I stopped off at my mom's to visit with her for a while. My mom lives in a building with over 25 floors, with 10 apartments on each floor. This is the same building I grew up in , and as you can imagine we have a LOT of neighbors. One neighbor greeted us warmly in the elevator, a man I had not seen in years, but for whom I've always had affection. He's been kind to me since I was a small girl, and I was always beguiled by the fabled stories of his past--how he competed in the 1960 summer Olympics, held in Rome (he was a boxer) and though he never married, his popularity with the ladies.

When we saw him in the elevator, I was struck at how he is still so handsome and when he smiled, I almost fell over to notice that he had braces on his teeth. When I pointed at them, and exclaimed, "Look! Me too!" He said, "I'm 76 years old. Can you believe it?"

First and foremost I couldn't believe that he was 76! (He didn't look a day over 50.) But there was something about the braces on his teeth that made him even more appealing. Younger. Sweeter.

I'm firmly convinced that seeing him was no accident, arranged by angels on this most holy weekend. And maybe, just maybe, could it be? That I am also more appealing, younger, and sweeter with braces?

Hmmm.