Dear Angel

In the middle of a high school quad, a young boy who sits longingly alone catches my eye. Head hung over, legs crossed. Rain continues to fall on his head. Drip drip drip. The boy does not have an umbrella, nor does he shield himself from the pounding. He sits intently still, concentrating and striving. I too, stand still, watching and listening. In the tears of Heaven, I see the boy clearer. The consistent rhythm lures him into reality. The melody overthrows his weaknesses and failures. Only then, I realized. This boy is fighting himself. He is not a coward. He gets up, regains strength and becomes the individual he was before. Strong and prepared, he walks away from me with firm feet. Up ahead, the gloomy clouds slowly clear away as the sun casts its brightest rays on one spot. In the boy’s tracks, a beautiful, thorned rose blooms and proudly sparkles. That night, I gazed up at the night sky from my bedroom window. I too think to myself. I hope that these stars are really angels in disguise. And I began to compose a letter in my head, beginning with the words: Dear Angel.