Shrines

"She loves yellow roses; I suppose that is why I sent them to her, but maybe it was more than that- I knew she needed them. She needed the pleasure that they gave her, and needed to know that someone, a friend like me, still thought of her, still cared for her. That's why I spent the fifty bucks on them. I told the florist to send them in a crystal vase. I could just picture that table by the window where the empty birdcage sits, and the sun shining through the crystal vase of yellow roses. Her pet bird, Crackers, died months ago, but she keeps his cage sitting there by the window- like a shrine.

But, that's the way my friend, Jocelyn, is. Everything is revered that belonged to the dearly departed. When her husband, Bob, died three years ago she placed his coffee pot on the shelf above the stove and hasn't touched it since, because it belonged to Bob.

So, I just knew that with the news that Jocelyn's tests came back positive for the big 'C', I had to spend the money and send them to her. She called right away and thanked me, and as I expected, she told me they were sitting on the table by Crackers' cage.  I am glad I sent them to her, even though it turned out to be the last kind act I ever did on earth."  Rachel ended her monologue by taking a deep breath.

She tended to speak rapidly when she was nervous, anxious, or frightened and this time she thought she was experiencing all three emotions at once.

She blinked at the man sitting in front of her, taking her deposition. She didn't want to be impolite and stare, but really it was fascinating to inspect the line of his wings, how they wrapped around his back when at rest and fluttered up when he changed position. She was wondering if she would have such a pair when suddenly, he cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to the matter at hand.

"And then?"

"Well, then I left the house, after Jocelyn hung up," she nodded at him as she corrected herself. "And that's when the bus hit me. Wham! And, here I am." She smiled wryly at him.

"I see."

"Michael?"

"Yes?" The angel answered an approaching messenger.

Rachel inspected the messenger's ankles. There were tiny little wings flapping rapidly and creating enough draft to propel him along and keep him aloft as he handed Michael the pouch. They were waiting on her folder to be sent over, her death being unexpected as it was and all. She watched the messenger give Michael the pouch of paperwork and leaned forward slightly to see over the desk at the wings on his ankles. The messenger shifted slightly and raised an eyebrow to her. Rachel shifted back into her chair.

"Well, well, this is an impressive record!" Michael closed the file and smile at her for the first time. "Before you enter you do have one last wish." He waited for her answer.

Rachel was still processing the fact that she had passed the test of life and was being admitted into heaven when Michael showed his impatience with another clearing of his throat. Thinking quickly, Rachel asked to see her old friend, Jocelyn again.

Within a heartbeat she was in Jocelyn's living room. Her friend sat in her favorite chair by the window and Crackers' cage. Beside the empty cage was a crystal vase with yellow roses- long ago past their prime and fading more with each passing day.

Rachael looked at Michael sadly. How long had it been? What seemed like just a moment ago...how long had it been?

"Yes, time passes differently now."

"The roses?" Rachael could barely speak above a whisper.

The angel nodded. "They are your shrine."

Poor Jocelyn. She had nothing in her life but the past.

"Michael, may I have another wish granted?"

She studied his face, waiting, praying he would answer her request with a yes.

"What would that be? You want to visit someone else? You want one more day on earth? What."

She looked back at her friend, the empty cage and the vase of rotting roses.

"Can you not give her someone else to love? Someone to keep away her lonilness? She's a good friend," Rachael begged.

"Come on, we must be going now." He took her hand, whispering a thought to her. "Your friend will be fine; she surrounds herself with loving memories."

Rachael hung her head.

Michael smiled, "All right, Rachael. One more."

There was a knock on the door. Jocelyn pushed her tired body from the chair to answer. There was a man, tall and good looking.

Rachael watched as he was invited in.

"She will find love again," Michael told her. "Come now, we must go."

"Can my wings be pink?"

He didn't answer, merely tightened his grip as he pulled her into the clouds.