Member-only story
The Timeless Healing Ritual of the Laying on of Hands
Tragedy assuaged by the warmth of the human embrace
Hearing sirens is no novel occurrence here in Chicago proper. Sirens provide the soundtrack to city living. But when you hear them come up your street and stop in front of your house, it’s disconcerting, to say the least.
That’s what happened the other day. I was sitting in my third-floor apartment reading for my theology class (where you can find me most days) and I heard the siren stop right out front. I looked out of my window to see a big fire engine and an ambulance with Maggie, the extremely nice elderly lady next door waving them over.
Paramedics rushed into her basement apartment. I couldn’t hear much, but she was visibly beside herself. I continued watching (because, FOMO, of course) and I saw her shaking hands holding the phone to her ear making calls.
Minutes later, Jane, her lady friend from down the street rushed over and immediately embraced Maggie. They quickly moved from the basement apartment to the bench in front of our apartment as it was jam-packed with medics and police. After 15 or 20 minutes (I was pacing back and forth to the window at this point trying not to be too nosey, but unable to help myself)a paramedic came out of the apartment and uttered something to Maggie.
