Walking Miracles

An Angel's Awakening

                Friday morning came just as it had every other morning for the last several months for the beautiful college sophomore. She slammed her hand on the alarm clock, knocking it off the table, and pulled the covers back over her head to block out the sun. About 5 minutes later, her cell phone started to ring from across the room, forcing her to roll out of bed and turn off that alarm. Instead of climbing back into the warm sheets to wait for her final alarm to go off, she rubbed her eyes and stretched her limbs out to prepare for the day ahead.

                She had everything planned out perfectly: She wanted to wake up early so that once everything was done around her tiny studio apartment/dorm she could get on the road. The larger chores still remained to be done, but the apartment had been cleaned throughout the week in preparation. Her friends knew to leave her alone, but one had insisted on helping out, and she knew that he would be arriving at an early hour.

                Racing around like a mad woman, she was ready in record time, but not a minute too soon because the second she threw a fresh shirt on after her hot shower, the knock she was waiting for came from her door. Not caring how messy her soaked hair looked dripping down her shirt, she flung the door open with a huge smile on her face. His warm smile changed to a small laugh as he looked her over, his eyes glinting in the hallway lighting. The tall and slender man wore nothing overly fancy, but she thought he still looked handsome in his boot-cut jeans, worn out t-shirt, and beat up work boots. In her eyes, it beat her cut off jeans, non-matching socks with holes in the toes, and dark purple shirt with a wet spot down the back from where her hair was laying.

                They spent several hours cleaning every surface of every piece of furniture she had in squished into her room. The laundry spun on the floor below them while they worked, the dust around them slowly diminishing the longer they cleaned. Music pumped softly from her stereo speakers, a CD he has made for her a few summers ago to represent their friendship through and beyond their senior year of high school. He was shocked at how quickly she had retrieved it from her closet, thinking she would have buried it away with old memories from their younger years. She claimed that those memories were starting to have an effect on her present life more than she first thought they were. As songs played, they shared smaller memories that the other had forgotten about or had faded from their minds. Before they knew it, their laughter and stories had led them well into the late morning, close to the lunch hour. He dragged her away from the Windex long enough to grab a bite to eat at a local restaurant.

                “So what’s your plan again? Who’s going where?” He asked her laughing. She had told him a million different things, and he still didn’t have the whole thing figured out.

                “Jeez, I only told you a hundred times yesterday,” She said, both of them laughing. “I am going over to Dublin to spend the weekend with Mum and Dad, maybe see the other kids, and then Mum is coming back here to visit the campus and see how things are going. You know her, always worrying.” She ended the sentence with a small eye roll, but her face was beaming. She had always enjoyed spending time with her parents, but her mother spoiled her with every visit. The last time she took the 3 hour drive, her mother had insisted on visiting the school and meeting some of the people she had met over the last year and a half. Remembering something, she exclaimed, “Oh! And Mum said she had a surprise she was bringing with her for me. No idea what it is yet, but I know her. She always finds a way to make something small into a huge surprise.”

                “Oh yeah! Like senior prom. Remember?” She gave him a look like ‘how could I forget’ but giggled as he continued with the story. “Your mum went crazy, but we loved every second. Your date bailed out on you the day before to go with what’s-her-face, the cheerleader, and you were ready to sell your dress online. Your custom-made-none-other-like-it, prom dress.