Far Off Angels

My daughter was much younger at the time, and we lived in a different house then.  It was the last house at the end of a short street.  The ground sloped off beyond the trees at the end of the road, leaving the house situated at the top of a high hill with a nice view of the town’s twinkling lights.  Amid these other lights, there was a beacon composed of three red lights that had particularly caught my daughter’s interest.  Because the lights formed the three points of an upside-down triangle, my daughter somehow got it into her head that this beacon was an angel watching over the town.  Whenever we pulled out of the driveway that winter, she would brush the frost off the back window of the car and watch the beacon as we drove away.

As the months rolled by, I fell into a kind of slump, a listless stretch of grey afternoons passing without motivation.  As the weather began to warm up and the days were growing longer, I decided that it might lift my spirits if I took my daughter out to find her angel.  So I took her little hand and we went for a walk, navigating through different neighborhoods and side streets.  We passed kids playing in dusty front yards while their parents smoked and talked on porches, heard ragged mufflers and car radios fade into the distance, all the lonely, drowsy, sadness of a summer evening in a strange part of town.

It was nearly dusk when we finally arrived at the source of the beacon.  The lights were mounted on a tall metal tower that sat in the middle of a muddy clearing.  The sun was scorching, low and bright at the edge of this clearing.  We shaded our eyes and stumbled down a rocky embankment.  I was just about to point the tower out to my daughter, so that in my fatherly, almost spiteful, way I could disillusion her, show her the truth about her “angel”, that it was just a plain metal tower in a dirty field.  But as we stood at the base of it, and I craned my neck to look up, I noticed that the scaffolding which supported the lights actually looked a little like a pair of wings.  I almost chuckled, but yet there was something about the way the light hit it at that hour and the white puffs of clouds in the sky above, that made me stop, that made everything stop, quiet and wonderful, and for a moment, even I believed.


13 thoughts on “Far Off Angels

  1. I like, too. You capture the essential ambiguity of angel-sightings very well.

    As for Blogger, I don't like the way it's going. On Chrome, there's no “subscribe by email” link. So I'm back to Firefox which does show it. Both Chrome and Blogger are owned by Google, which doesn't seem to be trying hard enough, perhaps because of its dominance. Amazon to my mind never misses a trick in customer service & could teach Google a lesson.


  2. Hey there Vincent!

    Plus I have a notice on my dashboard that we're all being herded into the new layout, whether we like it or not. I have yet to find any advantage to the new layout, neither in features or in the way it's organized. I really don't know why they can't keep it optional, although I guess it's easier at their end if everyone is on the same page. I'll definitely miss my old dashboard 😦


  3. Damn them! They changed it since this morning. They would like me to take out my site customisations too, I'm sure. (There's a button to press. It would not be reversible.) They don't want us to forget that we didn't pay to use Blogger. The landlord can come whenever he wants to make alterations, or even evict us for no reason, should the whim take him.


  4. Here's a quote from Blogger Buzz:

    “We recommend that anyone currently using the old interface switch to the new one, as all accounts will be permanently upgraded very soon.”

    Nice, huh?


  5. Thanks! I'm guessing Vincent pointed you in my direction.

    I've neglected this blog lately. Stomach problems have been interfering with my sleep, and thus my dreams as well. But I'm on some medication now that's helping out, so hopefully I'll have something to add here soon.


  6. Pointed him in your direction? Hah! I've given that young man the best years of my life, and now he finds my blog incomprehensible, and yours interesting.

    I have been jilted, but all the same I wish the two of you all future happiness.



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