Gloves

       Here they are my gloves; these gloves that I’ve worn for a couple of winters, and no one, least of all me, ever paid any attention to them. Well, the gloves are just gloves, nothing special about them, quite cheap in fact. But on one ordinary day, pulling the glove on my left hand, I was suddenly struck, at how remarkable these gloves really are. How comfortable they are! The leather is surprisingly soft and the color - dark brown, so well suited to a gray and beige jacket and also to a fur coat and even to a camel coat.

       And how warm they are – after a winter walk of two hours, and nothing - absolutely warm hands, and in fact I am terribly sensitive to the cold. And all thanks to this warm wool lining, and the soft liner inside. And how great is the design – the liner comes out beautifully and fits the hand perfectly - and this is warm and comfortable and so nice to thrust my hand inside - quite unusual for leather gloves. And what a beautiful twisted strap goes on top! Excellent gloves!

       And suddenly I notice that the left glove is slightly worn, while the right one looks brand new. Why is the left one worn, not the right one, while I am, in fact, right-handed?

       And so for the next few days I pull the gloves on and off, feeling nothing less than love and gratitude, and then suddenly in the evening while in a store I find that the left glove is lost, misplaced.

       The right one is right here – I squeeze it in my hand, but not the other sister. And I am almost crying from frustration and annoyance, back trace my steps in the dark through all three stores, and look in the corners and ask the shop assistants. No, nothing, as if it sank in water. And for a long time after, I am determined not to throw away the right glove, always looking at it and hoping – maybe, suddenly ...

      So what a silly point to talk about gloves! What am I thinking about, and feeling sorry and sad? I was never very close with my mother, and it seems to me, never ever in my life did I did call her mommy. Never!

      And so it is a beautiful warm sunny day. I wake up and while stretching and yawning, right in my pajamas crawl out onto the balcony; and all my thirty five cactuses stretch with me their spines and rare multicolored flowers; and my cat , almost smiling, purring, and clinging to my feet; and the best jazz of the world Sydney Bechet gently pouring from a neighbor's window; and even my fifteen year old daughter wakes up in a good mood; and I am suddenly overwhelmed and burst out loud with gratitude to all this life, to light, to heat, to the sun :

       - Lord, how great it is! How wonderful is everything!

       And all of a sudden, without any delay, from somewhere completely inside my heart or my soul and very loud:

       - If only my mommy would be alive for long!

       And inside me, puzzled, with sharp pain and fear:

       - Lord, what’s wrong with me all of a sudden?

       Two days later, at the other end of the earth, my mother died of a heart attack.

      So, explain it to me, please, how it all happens. Or have you not experienced anything like this? Is it just me? Then why me, the skeptic and the cynic, who does not believe in any God and anything at all, except for Darwin's theory?

       Well, let's say that some telepathic communication between people may still exist, some thoughts are transmitted through the distance.

       But between a glove and a human being?