Walk on Water

I have always been fascinated by the idea of walking on water.  Always used to watch those bugs walk across our pool, their spindly legs not breaking the surface tension of the water.

And so I pick apart the mystery of Jesus walking on the water.  It was a miracle, obviously.  But the miracle was not the fact of the walking on water, per se.  The miracle was the bending the laws of nature–the technical fact of not breaking the surface.  The tension, the weight.  Of making the water like Jell-o.  Elastic.

Jesus.  Science.  Miracles.

Some days, everything seems like a miracle.

I’m not the type of person to seem like a science-y person, but I am.  I think I would have liked to have been a doctor, maybe.  I think I have doctor envy.

So I go to a medical lecture at the Harvard Club.  Sometimes, I find myself sneaking into continuing medical education lectures; trolling NYU hospital for a lecture fix.

Are you a doctor? Someone asks me.  The crowd is old, old, old, in their hornrims and bowties. 

I’m just a HIPAA violation.  My rheumatologist is on the panel, and I hang on every scientific word; ever graphic horrorshow of a slide.  I love the blood and guts and prospect of change.  Delta.  Miracles.

The night flies by, and the smell of springtime has settled on Manhattan.  The change of seasons has brought a green layer of the change in trees.  Please, Mayor Bloomberg, enough with the greenery.  We are a city, for heaven’s sake. 

By today, I have been reduced to one gigantic, red-eyed sneeze.

My phone rings at 9:30 a.m. and I unexpectedly have family in town.

So WK and I have lunch with my aunt and uncle, who have come to town for a b’nai mitzvah.  My aunt and uncle, who are not really my aunt and uncle at all, and with whom I have sometimes had a contentious relationship.  They have surprised me with their visit, and I am filled with gratitude at the change in our ways together.

The topic at lunch turns to my father.  Your father thinks you walk on water, they say.

I smile.  I think about walking on water.  Expansion, contraction.  Surface tension.

A miracle, every day.

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