Country & Ethnic
"I never saw a feather," Levi said. "If you wanted me to have a feather, why didn't you knock on the door and hand it to me?"
"The rabbi told me to leave it on your doorstep," Yankel explained.
"Why on my doorstep? What's this about a feather?"
"Not just your doorstep. Everyone's doorstep. I don't know why, but the rabbi said to do it, so I must. And if your feather is gone, then I must go too, for I have many feathers to find before the sun sets."
"I never saw a feather," Levi said. "If you wanted me to have a feather, why didn't you knock on the door and hand it to me?"
"The rabbi told me to leave it on your doorstep," Yankel explained.
"Why on my doorstep? What's this about a feather?"
"Not just your doorstep. Everyone's doorstep. I don't know why, but the rabbi said to do it, so I must. And if your feather is gone, then I must go too, for I have many feathers to find before the sun sets."
There he stood, my grandmother's Spirit Man. He came up to my thigh, carved out of wood so dark it was almost blackâwearing a scowl and a ring through his nose and a grass skirt that should have looked silly but didn't. He looked angry and strong and mean. I tried to swallow, but my throat was too dry.
