Holy Apostles Soup Kitchen

My Metier

In Press, Prose, Uncategorized on August 18, 2014 at 3:15 pm

flyWhat was the impetus that propelled me into the art of healing? I could list several building instances. Ingrained within the DNA of my lineage, us Medicis were enthusiasts for natural healing. My father’s mountainous vilage, nestled in between ancient beech and oak trees, provided natural remedies for many illnesses of the day. Grandpa Medici himself was a much sought after doctor and it wasn’t unusual for people to travel miles on foot to seek his aid on a variety of maladies. However, my aha moment, my epiphany – that I was to love and heal people – came not out of an experience with a human being, but with a fly.

I was about nine, sitting on the sofa of a relative my family had decided to visit that particular Saturday. I was left alone as my father went to stay with the man of the house, my mother with the women and my little brother with the other younger children. Idly flipping through channels, I had reached for my glass of orange soda that was poured for me when, to my horror, noticed a fly inside, vigorously trying to stay afloat and alive.

I immediately felt compassion for the creature, remembering an axiom I heard my mother use once, “every soul is sweet to themselves.” Looking around, I noticed a pair of nutcrackers on the table. Without delay, I picked up the pliers and carefully grabbed the insect out of the sugary beverage, careful not to crush its small body. I laid him down on a tissue paper I had spread out on the table with my other hand. There was no deliberation, no hesitation – just antediluvian knowledge being squeezed out of the genetic material of my being – help all those that need your help.

The fly now lay lifeless but I would not give up. My eyes skimmed the long table where something had caught my eye. Something internal compelled me to pick up, of all things, one of those European hard candies that were so prevalent in immigrant households back in the day. I made a grab of a green apple flavored one, unwrapped it, and put in near the head of the fly. Within mere seconds, it flapped its wings and took off, making its way through an open window where it undoubtedly came through to begin with. I lay back on the couch with my hand on my heart, a deep profound awakening stirring within me that would set the disposition for the rest of my life.

Rosetta Miletti North


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