How to become an angel

 

It was a while ago. I don't remember exactly when it happened. Maybe three years ago. Today I remembered it and felt the need to tell someone. These memories are too cruel even for me; I rejoice in every day I forget about it, even for a moment. And I have so many of those days left.

After a harsh winter, spring came. The last snows were melting, leaving behind a puddle as a souvenir. Droplets of water fell from the trees, sparkling in the pleasant sun. Everything was coming back to life. Almost everything. People were wandering the streets. Busy businessmen, happy mothers… but there were no happy stories.

A small nine-year-old girl with freckles on her nose pushed her way through the crowd of strolling people. Her old shoes clattered on the sidewalk. She walked briskly toward the massive structure on the corner. It was an old, 16th-century church, its bell tower towering high. I sat on it, watching her as she entered.

It was dark inside, the only light coming from the dying candles hanging on the walls. There were pews everywhere, but only a few people sat in them. Everyone was absorbed in prayer. She, on the other hand, walked further, right up to the altar and knelt before the Lord. No one paid her any attention.

"Lord God, let Mommy come back to us, to work, to go with me for walks in the park again, where we fed swans. They are so beautiful. White as snow, like Snow White, who took care of the dwarves. I'm sure you know what I mean. Please let Mommy get up, let her smile. Let her open the curtains and look out the window at the street. Please, Lord God, make Mommy the way she used to be."

I sat next to her. I listened to her prayer. The prayer of a child who believes in something more than anything in the world, perhaps even more than in God. Then I cried. For the first time, I realized I couldn't help her in any way, only watch and offer her unconscious hope. Tears dried on my cheeks. Not a single one fell to the floor.

She stood and ran out of the church. Her quick footsteps echoed loudly throughout the church. I knew her. She came here every day. After prayer, she always went to the park. Now, alone. She headed down the path to the lake. With her mother, she had chosen her "own" corner, sheltered by trees. There, she fed the swans. But that day, they didn't arrive. The sun reflected off the mirror-like water. She closed her eyes. It was a lazy spring afternoon. People were returning from work, couples strolling through the park, gazing at each other, people with dogs. She was looking at the Golden Retriever, a dog with a wonderful, golden coat. She had never had a dog herself. Any dog. That was why these animals fascinated her so much. I knew it. I knew her.

Then she headed home. She always followed the same path. She always passed the church. I sat on the steeple and watched her from above. I was in love with her delightful, tiny steps. It was something worth waiting for forever.

At one point, she stopped. It was strange. She turned and looked at the steeple… at me? It was impossible. I felt her gaze on me, I felt it perfectly. Then she ran home. It was in a poor neighborhood, small and dark. Her mother lay in the room. The little girl loved the smell of the white duvet – it was so pleasant, so delicate. Her mother was sleeping.

"Mommy, you'll be well soon," she whispered. "We'll go to the park again to feed the swans, we'll walk and laugh. Mommy, I'll heal you. I know what needs to be done! You'll be well today…"

Her mother continued to sleep. She didn't wake up. She was tired. The little girl ran out of the house. She ran across the street, and I followed her. It seemed to me she was running to meet God, maybe she was. I didn't know. I just followed her.

The area became increasingly deserted. Fewer and fewer houses, the asphalt streets turned into paths. Meadows spread out all around. Tall grass fluttered in the light breeze. She kept running. And finally, she stopped. She stood above the tracks, a train approaching in the distance. The nearest station was several kilometers away. She stood on the rail, balancing herself with her hands to keep from accidentally falling.

"Mommy, I promise you'll be well today... I promise. I already have an idea how to cure you. Mommy, don't worry. I love you, don't be afraid. I'll be fine, and you'll get better." She looked at the approaching train. "I already have an idea... I'll become an angel to cure you. Isn't that wonderful? We'll go to the park again, Mommy. I'm about to become an angel..."

The train passed with a loud roar. It won't stop until it reaches the station. I don't remember what I said to her then. Even I don't have a perfect memory. That's actually good. It's a blessing. I just remember the way she looked at me. She was happy. And I sat down on the tracks and started thinking.