It was cold, rainy and for those who walked the street, perhaps a bit unforgiving. Â We stood on the street corner waiting for the light to change and I glanced over at her. Â Her pink umbrella framing the weathered face, red scarf wrapped around her neck, she seemed unfazed by it all. Â I wondered about her. Â Who was she? Â Where did she come from? Â What was her mission on this wet winter day?
The light changed and we said hello as we crossed the street and by the time I had gotten to the other side, I realized how beautiful she was. Â As she walked away I asked if I could take her picture. Â She was shy, but said, “OK.”
Then the stories began. Â Her father had ridden on a horse all the way from Nevada to marry the woman of his dreams. Â Her family had money, but she fell on tough times for many reasons. She was still living in tough times.
As we stood on the street in front of the church where she and hundreds of otherÂ visitors were about to celebrate another mass, I realized that she was yet another angel walking the streets of this sometimes lonely city.
Her name is Pati and she laughed.