Damien slowly turned the pages of his sketchbook and smiled at the childish drawings and scribbled words. The pages were a priceless collection of a child’s sentiments. He closed the book and looked through the window, a glimmer of pain flashing across his face, a pain that had stayed with him over the years with every breath he took, every step he made.

Now a man, he could think with deeper understanding than the little boy who, on each page, had sketched the yearning in his heart. It had been hard for him to let go; he had been too young to understand why his mom and dad were not coming back home. How many days had he not looked through that window from his room of the small white house, hoping to see the two people most dear to him walk up the path, hand in hand. Often the little boy in his mind had begged in his mind, “Can’t I please hear my mother’s sweet laughter or my father’s strong voice?”
He had sketched cherished memories that kept them close to him, trying to blot the scenes of the car crash, like fleeting shadows, from his young mind. It had been a holiday weekend and they were coming home from a resort off the highway when tragedy, like a bad dream, screamed into their lives. Damien had been riding with his cousins in the car behind. It was a dark day; too hard to forget, even for a five –year-old child.
Many days after he had stood at the white picket gate alone, no soft hands to hold and no strong shoulders to sit on. The shifting clouds above passed by without any words for the little boy, and the years slowly drifted on. His was a young life to live, like the spring blossoms; a world to explore, to conquer.
But it wasn’t a life that pleased his heart, nor a world he cared very much for, even though there was enough love and care from families of both parents. He could have followed great ambitions to become a scientist to help save the world or a doctor to save lives, but he chose instead to flirt with danger, and so became a motor cycle racer.
He wanted to be brave; not to be afraid of anything, and even though he won championships and his room was decked with trophies, it drove deep fear in the hearts of his grandparents. But the spills and injuries meant nothing to him because he felt fate had robbed him of the most beautiful thing in his life. But prayers, once one truly believes, are always answered.

It was one of those moonless, quiet nights when he had pushed the bike, riding blindly, challenging the entities of disaster and tragedy. He felt the crash and the pain before darkness clouded his conscious mind.
In the next few seconds, something happened that defined his life.
He saw them both; they were angels.
His mother held his hand and whispered to him: “Don’t wreck your life son, we are watching you every day. You are our most beautiful treasure; let the good in you shine forth for in heaven your name is always on our lips.”
“We love you so much,” his father said. “You have a wonderful future awaiting you; you’re the jewel of this family.”
They had kissed him, their cute little boy now grown into such a strong, handsome young man, and the weak beats of his heart became strong. The thought of knowing they were still in his life rebuilt his shattered mind and lifted the burden of pain from his heart. He had opened his eyes and smiled; now he knew there was something in his life to live for.
Through the months of recovery from his injuries, he brought smiles and happiness to his grandparents; no more tears and worry. Now he understood the miracles on the race tracks and the roads, and the heart-warming feelings on his birthdays. He registered into college and began studies in medicine, wanting now to dedicate his life to saving lives, and stop flirting with danger.
Damien returned the sketchbook to the box and sighed with satisfaction. Today he stood tall and proud, a graduate embarking on a new phase in his life as a doctor.
He looked up and said: “Thank you so much, mom, dad, and if you can, stay with me a little while more for I still need you.”

A small gust of wind ruffled his hair and he smiled, a little song in his heart, knowing he had two guardian angels.

(By Maureen Rampertab)