The White Flower

I was leaving work, and driving my car the familiar path towards the entrance of 395. As I approached one the busy intersection just before the onramp, I noticed a homeless fellow I'd never seen before. I'm used to the regulars who stake out this key locale. He was an older White gentleman with a white beard, and he immediately approached my car. My windows were down, and I figured he was going to ask me for ...

But no, all he did was smile at me, and put a white flower underneath my windshield wiper. Then he walked away. The flower was beautiful, but I figured it would blow away as soon as I got on the highway, because he had simply slipped into one of the notches in the wiper, and hadn't secured it firmly underneath the rubber blades.

I got on 395, then 95, and the flower didn't blow away. In fact, I made it all the way home, and the flower was just fine, even though its pretty head had tossed furiously during its journey.

Once I entered my apartment, I immediately found a little vase to put it in. And later, I asked E (my significant other, and a Santero) to tell me if it was sacred to an Orisha.

Somehow I wasn't surprised when he told me the answer: It's sacred to Obatala, KIng of the White Cloth.