Angel

In her garland of leaves and acorns, the child looked very much like some sylvan spirit from an Arthurian legend. Only her eyes, a piercing blue, alerted me to her presence in the otherwise abandoned woods. Maple leaves were tangled in her auburn windswept hair that framed her dirt and tear streaked face. Her clothing, tattered and stained, clung to her small frame.

Her eyes widened as she saw me approach her as she stood behind a tree. “Are you an angel?” she asked breathlessly.

I smiled inwardly at her question. Me? An angel? I’d dropped out of law school the week before and my mother kicked me out of the house because I was, and I quote, a “no-good lazy child who has to be the most ungrateful daughter in the entire universe.” As I looked down at my clothes, torn cut-off jeans and a “save the whales” T-shirt, I knew I was no angel - certainly not the devil, but no angel either.

I was a bit taken aback when the child emerged from behind the tree, took my hand, and started walking with me. With no other choice, I followed her, listening as she chattered. She talked about everything – her imaginary family (composed of a loving mom and dad with a few older siblings thrown in the mix), her dream house (anything without holes in the roof and four solid walls), and her room (painted the color of the sunset with purple sheets on her bed).

I have no idea where we went or how long we walked. I only woke up from my trance when the nymph-child began to quietly sing a wordless song.

As we returned to the forest path, she momentarily disappeared behind her tree before reappearing with something clenched in her hand. Placing the object in my cupped hands, she waved and skipped back to the tree. I started after her, but when I reached the tree, nobody was there. The area was deserted.

Confused, I looked at the object in my hand where a small seed lay. I heard her breathless voice behind me whispering, “The season of failure is the best time for sowing the seeds of success.”

I whirled around, but there was no one there. It was only later, as I thought about her words, I realized I wasn’t her angel. She was mine.