I once heard that a feather on a sidewalk means that an angel has passed overhead. My neighborhood must be full of angels, then – or molting birds, but I think angels are more likely.
Why so many angels? This quiet little neighborhood has a reason to be quiet: old folks.
Decades ago, a massive apartment complex was built across the street as a cooperative for military families. But now they’re old and retired: grandparents and even great-grandparents. Every New Year’s Eve, the streets are triple-parked as their children and grandchildren come home for dinner.
Old. Decrepit, in fact. They go for shuffling walks with caretakers propping them up or pushing their wheelchairs. Others get regular pickups from ambulances and senior citizen services.
Not that I’m complaining. They’re fine, friendly, well-behaved, quiet neighbors. Actually, I worry for them.
These feathers prove the presence of specific angels: angels of death come to take away my elderly neighbors. Divine presence seems reasonable, since my neighbors are religious. Their apartment complex even includes a chapel.
In the final moments of their lives, they might actually see the angels that I can only imagine based on the evidence of feathers. They’re hovering here now above the streets and rooftops because they know someone’s time is near. Not mine, I presume, although I don’t know the date of my own end.
I do know someone’s last breath is near, and that person will be well-attended on the way to the afterlife. All those feathers prove it.