“Do you believe in angels?” my grandpa once asked me. I told him that my mother was as close as one could be.
I was only ten years old then and didn’t have a clue. But I hoped there were some angels, maybe one that Grandpa knew.
My grandpa said he’d seen an angel many years ago and made a promise to himself, he’d be that angel’s beau.
I wasn’t sure just what he meant. “You knew she’d be your wife? I’m never getting married. Don’t need women in my life.
“And girls don’t look like angels. They don’t have wings to fly. The thought of having girlfriends? Yuk! I guess I’d rather die.”
Grandpa said, “It’s only natural for a boy to feel this way. Do you think that girls are sissies and just have paper dolls for play?”
Then he said, “Don’t worry, boy. Your angel will appear. By then you’ll see it my way, and you won’t have boyish fear.”
I listened so intently as my grandpa spoke to me, ‘cuz I felt a little leery ‘bout this angel I would see.
Grandpa’s voice got quiet. “She’ll take you by surprise. You prob’ly won’t know what to say and won’t believe your eyes.
“The first time that she smiles at you, you’ll know just what I mean. For sure she’ll be your angel. The one you’ve not foreseen.”
Then grandpa said, “My angel is the best part of my life. She’s been with me for sixty years and never caused me strife.”
With a twinkle in his eye, he said, “Throughout these many years, I could snuggle up to Grandma, and she never boxed my ears.”
I loved it when I saw my grandpa hold my grandma’s hand. It taught me ‘bout two peoples’ love. It helped me understand.
And when I saw my angel, I knew I’d be her beau. But Grandpa got it wrong ‘cuz when she smiled, I said, “Hello!”