Yesterday, I spotted a small, pink, easy chair randomly resting along a train track and it set my mind wandering.
Had a rogue band of toddlers left it there after a raucous night of raspberry blowing and mud pie making following their coordinated escape from various cribs around the city?
Too close to the tracks, I decided.
I circled back, took another look and, from that angle with the sun shining on it just right, the chair’s purpose became obvious.
It’s a resting spot for guardian angels.
Imagine how busy they’ve been these past few years, whipping around the world to guide people gently through these stressful times, whispering encouragement to one struggling soul, only to hear a distress call from another. Such exhausting, necessary work!
I’ll bet they’ve stashed various accoutrements in unlikely places where, unnoticed, they can collect their thoughts and marshall their emotional resources. Maybe they even chat a little in passing as one rises gracefully to float off into the night and the other arrives bleary-eyed and concerned.
“Rest up, friend. Tomorrow will be better.”
I have a long list of people I care about and I’d like to think there’s a guardian angel out there for every one of them, nudging them in the right direction, comforting them when I can’t and healing them from all their ailments.
It’s a lot to ask.
I fluffed up the pillowy seat of that pink chair.
Tomorrow, I may bring it a cold drink.