It was only when he was an adult that he came to conclude that although God was indeed behind his accident, it had been a blessing, not a curse. When he was older and classmates made fun of his limp, he would stare at the statue of Jesus above the altar of his white-plastered church and blame a cruel God.

The consequence of this small carelessness was permanent disability. He wanted to tell his father that it was his fault, not the gardener’s, but he worried that he too, would be sent away. He had found it in a flower bed and had been using it to bash toy soldiers until it became lost in high grass. The boy recognized it by its color and shape, black and pyramidal. The boy protested, but blame had been assigned. When the boy returned from hospital, the gardener, whom he liked, had been fired. In time, the bone healed the nerve did not. The blade hit a rock and cracked, and a length of jagged steel kicked up from the turf and spun into the boy’s leg just below the knee, breaking the fibula and nicking the peroneal nerve. He had been five, playing near the gardener as the old man with sunbeaten skin pushed a lawn mower. He was well practiced his foot drop was old. His custom was to survey the ground and adjust his leg lift as required. He loathed canes, for they marked one as disabled. He was fine on a flat surface, but uneven cobbles threatened to catch his sole and pitch him forward. Right foot forward, left knee raised high to clear the left foot from dragging. Looking toward the Vatican obelisk from the Piazza Papa Pio XII, pilgrims and tourists appeared to be walking not on gray stones, but on the surface of a shimmering, mystical red sea.Ī man made his way across the square at his usual plodding pace. At Saint Peter’s Square, the sun beat down at just the right angle, transforming the wet cobblestones from hardscape to light, a yellow light that danced with sparkles and flashes. The sirocco winds from North Africa had carried red Saharan sand clinging to raindrops, and when Romans awoke, they found their city steaming with humidity and dusted with rosy glitter. A morning such as this seemed a magic trick conjured by a grand illusionist. It had rained hard the previous night, a blood rain whipped by wind, but the storm had passed, and the morning sky was luminous and nearly cloudless.

Down by Glenn Cooper