The Princess and the Crap
(Part 2)
When did angels get their wings? I have often wondered that. No, I’m not thinking of the saying, “Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings,” popularized by Mr. Humphrey Bogart. No, I want to know when people started painting them that way. And why did they use dove wings? There must be some symbolism there, some kind of reference to doves as messengers of peace and hope . . . and courage.
One beautiful afternoon when we were young, Evelyn and I sat outside after one of our adventures, enjoying the warm kisses of the sun. At least, that’s the way I remember it. I seem to remember most of those days in brighter colors than I remember my later years. In a fluttering rush, a dove landed just before us. The purest white we could imagine, she seemed to have her own aura in the bright light of the sun. We sat as quiet as we could, holding our breath. The dove strutted around for a while, pecking here and there, and we watched, entranced. Eventually, she grew bored and flew up into the air. To our sheer delight, she landed on a branch that jutted out just above us. We gaped upward at the beautiful bird.
For a minute, I felt very jealous of Evelyn, for the bird had decided to perch directly above her in a gesture of some kind of blessing. The next minute, I felt very lucky, for the bird bestowed a blessing upon her before flying away. Eyes and mouth squeezed shut and an expression of disgust washing over her face, Evelyn turned toward me. Gingerly, she pulled a delicate handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped away the bird droppings that had landed on her forehead. When she could look at me, I felt an unruly and entirely inappropriate reaction struggling to get out of me. I fought it, but it came out anyway. A laugh exploded out of me, and I fell backward onto the grass. I saw the same reaction struggling within Evelyn, too. It was too much for her and she fell beside me, laughing.
Remarkably, we had forgotten about that day entirely, until we found ourselves walking through a park not too long ago. The day had turned cold and cloudy, and gusts of wind whipped around trees, shaking their branches like Mexican maracas. Hats pulled down over our ears, shoulders hunched, and hands buried deep in our coat pockets, we walked through the lonely park. The topic of our conversation matched the day in grimness.
“She won’t be happy with your boyfriend,” I said, glumly.
“I know,” muttered Evelyn. “I don’t care.”
I shot a glance at her. “You do care. A lot.” Evelyn didn’t respond vocally, but she clenched her jaw and scowled. I continued, afraid of what I was going to say next. “That’s a good thing. You love her.”
“I hate her.”
I pulled my hand out of my pocket and grabbed her shoulder. “You love her, Evelyn, despite everything she did to tear you down. I admire that.” Eyes downcast, Evelyn tried to pull away from me. I wouldn’t let go. “No, don’t go. Just because you love her doesn’t mean that you have to put up with the burdens she lays on you.”
A tear slid out of Evelyn’s eye, and her lips trembled. “I put up with so much . . .” She swallowed, determined to say what was on her mind. “So much . . . crap.” I smiled. Dear Evelyn, so kind and sincerely polite that she couldn’t even bring herself to swear.
“I know you want to just run away and hope everything goes away, but you need to go break your chains yourself. They won’t go away.”
“I know. I know.” She gazed out at the park, and suddenly gasped. A gloved hand pointed to the white bird fluttering down to the ground. “A dove,” she whispered. “Do you remember that day?”
I snorted. “Yes, I do.”
Evelyn’s expression looked like some hideous blend of humor and pain. “I’m so messed up that I even took crap from a bird.”
I sobered quickly. “Evelyn . . .”
She laughed, but it sounded like sob. “I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can.”
Suddenly, Evelyn dashed out at the bird, waving her arms wildly and shouting. Frightened, the bird flew away. She watched it fly away. “Hah!” she shouted hoarsely, ignoring the outraged looks of other pedestrians at the park. “I won’t take it! Not any more!” I stood there, trying to decide if I should pretend not to know her, or join her in the bizarre moment of self-discovery.
“No more crap!” I shouted.
“Yeah!” yelled Evelyn. She stood for a few moments, breathing hard. When she turned, she had completely composed herself. She walked back to me sedately and gave me a calm look. “Really. You’re an embarrassment to society, acting like that,” she told me. She flashed me a brilliant smile, and we finished our walk.
The news of the wealthy Aberdeen heiress having a fall-out with her family and moving to America only stayed on the news for a few days. The story was quickly overtaken by the nasty divorce of some famous diva or other. Would you believe it? We’re perfectly happy with that.
Oh, did they marry? Gracious, no. Russ just wasn’t her type. He came into her life for a time just brief enough to give her the courage to break away. Dare I say it? He was almost an angel to her — him and that confounded bird.
(Part 2)
When did angels get their wings? I have often wondered that. No, I’m not thinking of the saying, “Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings,” popularized by Mr. Humphrey Bogart. No, I want to know when people started painting them that way. And why did they use dove wings? There must be some symbolism there, some kind of reference to doves as messengers of peace and hope . . . and courage.
One beautiful afternoon when we were young, Evelyn and I sat outside after one of our adventures, enjoying the warm kisses of the sun. At least, that’s the way I remember it. I seem to remember most of those days in brighter colors than I remember my later years. In a fluttering rush, a dove landed just before us. The purest white we could imagine, she seemed to have her own aura in the bright light of the sun. We sat as quiet as we could, holding our breath. The dove strutted around for a while, pecking here and there, and we watched, entranced. Eventually, she grew bored and flew up into the air. To our sheer delight, she landed on a branch that jutted out just above us. We gaped upward at the beautiful bird.
For a minute, I felt very jealous of Evelyn, for the bird had decided to perch directly above her in a gesture of some kind of blessing. The next minute, I felt very lucky, for the bird bestowed a blessing upon her before flying away. Eyes and mouth squeezed shut and an expression of disgust washing over her face, Evelyn turned toward me. Gingerly, she pulled a delicate handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped away the bird droppings that had landed on her forehead. When she could look at me, I felt an unruly and entirely inappropriate reaction struggling to get out of me. I fought it, but it came out anyway. A laugh exploded out of me, and I fell backward onto the grass. I saw the same reaction struggling within Evelyn, too. It was too much for her and she fell beside me, laughing.
Remarkably, we had forgotten about that day entirely, until we found ourselves walking through a park not too long ago. The day had turned cold and cloudy, and gusts of wind whipped around trees, shaking their branches like Mexican maracas. Hats pulled down over our ears, shoulders hunched, and hands buried deep in our coat pockets, we walked through the lonely park. The topic of our conversation matched the day in grimness.
“She won’t be happy with your boyfriend,” I said, glumly.
“I know,” muttered Evelyn. “I don’t care.”
I shot a glance at her. “You do care. A lot.” Evelyn didn’t respond vocally, but she clenched her jaw and scowled. I continued, afraid of what I was going to say next. “That’s a good thing. You love her.”
“I hate her.”
I pulled my hand out of my pocket and grabbed her shoulder. “You love her, Evelyn, despite everything she did to tear you down. I admire that.” Eyes downcast, Evelyn tried to pull away from me. I wouldn’t let go. “No, don’t go. Just because you love her doesn’t mean that you have to put up with the burdens she lays on you.”
A tear slid out of Evelyn’s eye, and her lips trembled. “I put up with so much . . .” She swallowed, determined to say what was on her mind. “So much . . . crap.” I smiled. Dear Evelyn, so kind and sincerely polite that she couldn’t even bring herself to swear.
“I know you want to just run away and hope everything goes away, but you need to go break your chains yourself. They won’t go away.”
“I know. I know.” She gazed out at the park, and suddenly gasped. A gloved hand pointed to the white bird fluttering down to the ground. “A dove,” she whispered. “Do you remember that day?”
I snorted. “Yes, I do.”
Evelyn’s expression looked like some hideous blend of humor and pain. “I’m so messed up that I even took crap from a bird.”
I sobered quickly. “Evelyn . . .”
She laughed, but it sounded like sob. “I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can.”
Suddenly, Evelyn dashed out at the bird, waving her arms wildly and shouting. Frightened, the bird flew away. She watched it fly away. “Hah!” she shouted hoarsely, ignoring the outraged looks of other pedestrians at the park. “I won’t take it! Not any more!” I stood there, trying to decide if I should pretend not to know her, or join her in the bizarre moment of self-discovery.
“No more crap!” I shouted.
“Yeah!” yelled Evelyn. She stood for a few moments, breathing hard. When she turned, she had completely composed herself. She walked back to me sedately and gave me a calm look. “Really. You’re an embarrassment to society, acting like that,” she told me. She flashed me a brilliant smile, and we finished our walk.
The news of the wealthy Aberdeen heiress having a fall-out with her family and moving to America only stayed on the news for a few days. The story was quickly overtaken by the nasty divorce of some famous diva or other. Would you believe it? We’re perfectly happy with that.
Oh, did they marry? Gracious, no. Russ just wasn’t her type. He came into her life for a time just brief enough to give her the courage to break away. Dare I say it? He was almost an angel to her — him and that confounded bird.
:)
ReplyDeleteThat was great! I loved the last paragraph. Great use of two pictures to make one story. I think that would make it a lot more difficult.
I think its funny that yesterday, both of our stories alluded going back in time (well, in yours, pretending to, in mine, someone coming forward from time), and today both of our pictures were of birds.
Great work, Tabi. Keep it up. :)
Lol, that's true, Mary Ann.
ReplyDeleteI'm having a horrible time formatting this stupid thing. It keeps going wrong.