Who?

By Julie Arduini

 

Who are those people in my spot?

I wipe the sweat off my eyelids.   The woman nestles in my corner.  She whispers to the man who is wiping her forehead.  I pick up my last water run of the day and pivot behind the wall.

Who?

The owl flies past and lands in his usual spot, the beam above the strangers.  A donkey brays, prompting low giggles from the two.  I can’t help it, I want my spot.  I put the jugs against the stone wall and pivot back.

Wiping my now dusty and sweaty face, they don’t see me.  The cow seems to realize our arrangement; that I’m allowed to stay in that corner as long as I feed and water the animals.  The cow snorts in a tattle as he looks my way.  He probably knows I’m empty handed.

Who?

The owl looks down at the man and woman and echoes my thoughts.  The couple continues their whispers until the woman lets out a moan and clutches her stomach.  I want to retreat back to the water, but I step forward.

“Is it time?”

The man holds her hand.  I can tell by the look in his eye he loves her. 

My papa looked the same way at mama every day we were a family.  When she died, a bit of all of us did.  Papa never smiled, only yelled.  When he ordered me to leave, I knew it was the best thing to do.  I look just like mama.

“Soon, Joseph, soon.  Keep praying.  It comforts me.”

The man nods.  As he talks to Yahweh, her moans grow louder.  The cow joins her, as does the donkey.  Even the owl keeps repeating his question.  She seems in such trouble. My feet blindly step forward.

“I’m sorry.  Can I help?”

They both turn their heads.  She looks in pain, yet there is a glow on her face I can’t explain.  Joseph has worry lines etched in his face.  He looks down to her as the owl hoots again.

“Water.  I believe the animals need water.”

The woman answers.  I’m stunned.  She’s worried about the animals?

“Mary, don’t you think you need the water?  You need the strength for the baby.”

I bite my lip as the two look deep into each other’s eyes.  I feel like an intruder.

“Yahweh takes care of us.  Boy, what is your name?”

I take a step closer.  She looks maybe a year older than me.

“Nadav.  The innkeeper allows me to stay as long as I help.”

Joseph smiles.  The innkeeper’s kindness extends beyond me.

“We have your corner then.”

Her breathing quickens and eyes close as she finishes her thoughts.

Who?

I look up to the old owl.  Mary lets out a groan that starts the animal choir once again.

“I have water.  I’ll get it now.  I’ll get more, too.”

The couple’s attention is on the babe making its way.  I retrieve the water, spilling water over the troughs in my attempts to hurry and give privacy.  I run to the well in half my normal time.  Again I lose water in my haste.  I stop right at the stone entrance to collect my breath and listen.

A baby cries.

I step in with the jugs, mesmerized at the sight.  The stable is so full of light it feels like midday.  Mary beams as she places the newborn in a manger, filled with straw I carried in only hours before.

“Is everything okay?”

They don’t even look my way.  Their gaze held on this child.  My eyes also linger.

“Everything is perfect.”

I sense the joy in Joseph’s voice.  I regain my focus and continue to pour water.  I want so much to join them in their corner for a closer look.   I feel such love around them I’m drawn.

“Nadav, it’s okay.  You may come closer.  Please.  You’ve been so generous to let us take your corner.”

I smile and step to the manger. The baby and I lock eyes.

“His name?”

Mary reaches to her son and lets a tear fall on his cloths.

“His name is Jesus.”

Who?

The owl’s question makes us laugh.  I look up and answer.

“The anointed one.”