Speaking with an Angel This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

October 19, 2010
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Sarah Nanny

August 4th, 2010 downtown Colorado chowin down on a platter of garlic& herb french-fries and a lemon iced tea. The sun was burning up, but the shade felt like a heavenly mist. I was perked beside two of my soccer teammates refueling after an agonizing ninety minutes of running up and down a scorching hot turf field. We were restless and covered in dirt, but somehow I was alert enough to notice the joyous music coming from across the street. The angelic voice entered and exited my head repetitively throughout all three courses of lunch! It’s as if it were berating me every bite I took, but still I resisted. As I examined my bill lucidly, I reached for my wallet to pay the aggravated and underpaid waitress. She snatched the money out of my hand so quickly; she practically took the paint off my nails, but I didn’t care. All my attention was paid to the dirty hippy serenading my favorite song by good ol’ Bob Marley, “Redemption Song”.

Impatiently, I scrambled out of my seat and rushed to get a closer look at what I had sensed was an angel. Every step I took, the city pandemonium faded out of my senses, and the only sound that could be heard was his Estaban vintage guitar. As I approached the sundried man, not only did his dank stench grow stronger, but his appearance; more hallowed. He didn’t hesitate to halt his rejoicing. He knew I enjoyed every second of it, but I wanted to tell him in depth how marvelous he truly was. While I began to reach out and introduce myself, word diarrhea flew out of my mouth like a hijacked airplane rapidly descending, “You are the most amazing, fantastic, marvelous, heavenly artist I have ever laid eyes upon.” I tried to with all my might to bring myself to my right-mind, but all I could do was ramble on. A warm and welcoming smile spread across the old man’s face as he grabbed my hand assuringly. Finally, we had met; and my hands refused to stop trembling with enthusiasm. We discussed all things imaginable, from opinions to the big man upstairs.

It had been a little over twenty minutes, and not so much as one person even paused to appreciate this man’s genuine talent. I just couldn’t comprehend the reasoning as to why I felt such a powerful urge to connect and speak to this guy, and every other pedestrian making their way down the street treated him as if he was in mute. As the thought kept rewinding back threw my head repetitively, it hit me so hard; I felt as if Mike Tyson was standing over me screaming KO. I had been in the midst of an angel, and I could feel his presence so intensely I had a body high. He questioned me about what made me happy and what made me despise people as much as I do. I procrastinated the answer for a good thirty seconds then, tried explaining to him that our generation is all media-influenced and mediocre people who look to their opinionated parents for an outlook on life. The young neophytes from my high school have not so much as one independent view that I haven’t already heard from the news or through a teacher. At least I thought that was my issue with most human beings today. He had the most intelligent, and astonishing views on everything I quizzed him on. He even had opinions on my outlooks; which opened my mind to so many different thoughts and feelings I never imagined myself to have.

As time aged on, our conversation grew more in depth about Jesus Christ. Specifically, the bible, church, prayer, and my other beliefs on Christianity. I elaborated that I go to church every Sunday as often as I am able, and that I pray every night before going to sleep. However, he seemed surprisingly put off the further I explained myself. While in the middle of my phrase I came to a halt, and leered back at his confusion. He quickly readjusted his expression as if he didn’t want me to notice his peculiar face, but I couldn’t help it. The more I continued, I started feeling embarrassed about sharing my insights with this man. So, I began to say my thank you’s and fare well’s, as he abruptly paused me. Without a word, he brought me to complete and total silence. A grin, more enormous than anyone could ever imagine crept onto his face, and he pulled me so close I could smell the tarter on his rotten teeth. This old man was no mediocre, opinionative filled jerk, he was an angel. Though, only the words that had been whispered into my ear that day could ever tell. “God, loves you whether you asked me to or not, and nobody nor nothing can change his opinion.”





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