Notes from public school - Day 59

As a teacher, I know I am a guardian for my students from the time they walk through our school doors til they walk out.

As a writer, I try to be a guardian for stories.

I am a guardian of their hearts, souls, minds and strengths.

I am their guardian angel.

Today, however, four of my students were my guardian angels.

Look at the gifts they gave me.

Life is a symphony of plastic sharks, construction paper bats, homemade Amongus books and green apples, I guess.

Life is good, I know.

from Trevor’s Encyclopedia of Guardian Angels

He looked up from the book in his lap as the Greyhound bus squeaked to a stop at the Greenville terminal.

The old woman next to him fell asleep on the trip up from Charleston, and leaned her head on his shoulder. 

Her face was wrinkled like the bark on an ancient magnolia tree, and colored the beautiful brown of it’s trunk and branches. 

She breathed in, the air made a soft, whistling sound through her nose, and she breathed out.

That made a gentle, flapping sound through her lips.

“Life is a symphony,” he chuckled to himself, “Of whistles and kazoos.”

“Ma’am,” he whispered. 

She didn’t move.

She kept right on whistling and kazooing. 

“Ma’am,” he said a little louder.  

This time he reached out and touched her weathered hand. 

She opened her deep brown eyes and smiled a tired smile at him. 

“Thanks for a lettin’ me use yo shoulda as my pilla,” she said with a gravelly voice. “First time I woked up beside a man in a long time. Hope my snorin’ didn’t bother you none,” she giggled. 

“No ma’am,” he said with a giggle of his own.

“It was music to my ears.”

His knees and back snapped and popped as he stood slowly and smoothed the wrinkles in his pants and shirt. 

“My goodness,” said the old woman, “You make music, too.” 

He placed his hand on her bony shoulder. 

“We could start a band called The Human Element,” he said. “People would come from all over the country to hear us whistle, flap, snap and pop. You think?”

“Yep, they’d pay a bundle of money to hear that.”

He pulled on his jacket and waved to her. 

“Goodbye, my friend,” he said. “Thanks for the song.”

She waved back. 

“Thank you,” she said. “And do me a favor. Lean on down here and let me tell you somethin’.”

He leaned down.

He was surprised.

She kissed him on his forehead with a light, tender kiss. 

“That’s the kiss of a guardian angel,” she whispered.  “Look closely and listen carefully to life, and do not be afraid.”