Saturday Special: The Little Room on the Roof
Temptations never take a break even during the holiest of celebrations or retreats to reset one's course.
The voice of the muezzin rang across the Old City of Jerusalem as the evening sun glowed upon the ancient walls. Merchants barked their final temptations to pilgrims in the market. Michelle laid her bag upon the bed in the tiny room atop a house in the Jewish Quarter. Over the door hung an arbor of grapevines whose wilted leaves and shrunken grapes shivered in the breeze. Easter and Passover flooded the streets with the devoted of both religions, their prayers merging with the calls from the minarets.
The atmosphere was tense. Even the holiest observations brought the specter of turmoil. Michelle sensed it as she climbed the stairs then saw the Haganah soldier perched upon a dome in the roof. He regarded her briefly as she stood there, shocked to see his Uzi resting across his knee. His face was grim, aloof. He lost his innocence years ago.
She had rented the room for a week. Here above the household and the flux of human activity, she hoped to find refuge and poetry. With a tin box of pens, watercolors, and paper, she longed to express whatever entered her mind. Words and their lyrical sounds. Visions in her mind's eye. Emotions that dammed the flow of music running through her brain. Too many pages had stared back at her recently, defying her need to exorcize demons from the past few years. Too many lovers. Too many choices leading to failure. She was drained of energy. During this celebration of re-emergence, in this Holy City, she yearned for grace. Perhaps even atonement.
But there was the soldier … a man her age … a very sad and handsome man … sitting just beyond her window. Would he be there all week? Or just for the night. As she asked that question, that phrase echoed loud. Just for the night!
Oh, how four little words could ruin a life.
A few holy days are celebrated this time of year. Easter is tomorrow, April 20, 2025. Also, Mahavir Jayanti for Jains and the beginning of the Baha'i holiday of Ridván are celebrated annually on April 21.
May this season of renewal bring you peace.
Such a poignant juxtaposition of the traveler and the soldier. I am sure he would much rather be drinking coffee in a cafe with her. So thoughtful, Sue.