Vestigial Notes

One day, God called his kids. He asked them to sit beside him, and when they all finally fell silent and just staring at him, He told them a story.

"This is a story about your brother Cupid," He began . . .

And we, of course, know how lovely he is, and how he, above all others of his kind, loves and fancies the heart of men. Well, that is why he chose the lakeside as his miracle. It is a passion for him, and a dedication I must say, to look every now and then at the lake. The great angel, as you knew him, can tell stories of true love just by observing the water, and that is how he works as a keeper and a true knight of love.

One day, while I was strolling along the woods near the lake, I found him sad and disturbed, sitting under a tree while staring blankly on the water. I wanted to hear from him what was wrong, so I asked him.

Before he replied, he kissed my hands tenderly. And it was warm and sweet, like the tears that started to fall from his eyes. Why do you weep, my child? I asked another question, though I, too, didn't want to hear the answer. So what I just did, was to hug him. And tell him, that it'll be ok.

After which, I carry him on my shoulder. I brought him closer to the lake, and only then did he spoke a word. Father, he looked at me, sighed and then went his gaze into the sky. I read his thoughts for a while, and then I heard his heart asking, have men forgotten how to love?

I wanted to spit the answer for him, and to tell him not lose his hope, but I didn't. Sometimes I let your spirits searched for the answer, because, when guided by love, they bring more lessons and happiness. It is more dangerous, yes, but it is one of my ways of saying, and of speaking. After all, I will never leave.

The moment somehow made me realize things I can never forget, and somehow made me think of things about the future. And while staring at the sad Cupid on my shoulder, my heart ached so much. I was saddened for him and for the creatures, for the spirits and souls, and angels. So I pointed a spot in the water, that he quickly turned his eyes at and examined.

And then thankfully, I saw hopes through his eyes.

C'mon, I insisted. Spread your wings, Cupid. And then I felt happy as he smiled at me and spread those wingses. He flew over quite rapidly and jumped into the spot I had pointed, eager and excited.

…it was time for Cupid to travel on earth to watch the love he had found and while following his actions and arriving at earth, maybe like a kid also, we hid into a cloud of the night's sky.

"What kind of things do you usually write, Mike?" by the glimmering full moon, a girl in her mid, teenage year, positioned her seat and asked.

The boy beside her answered thoughtfully, "angels," he said. "I usually write about angels."

And then for a long moment on that sturdy bench, they stared at each other as if their own eyes were the stars. Cupid saw the same hopes I saw and thought it was beautiful.

Then the girl asked again, almost silently, "would you let me read one of them?"

"Well," the boy sighed, then look at his hands as he opened and closed them again. "You'll be the first to read when I finished my first novel."

They both smiled by the thought of it, and yet never again spoke a word. The wind brushed their hairs and even with the coldness of it, they remained sitting beside each other, both were uneasy, and both were awaiting.

This time, from the reflections reflected by the moon, Cupid saw sadness. He sensed how the boy wanted to make the girl happy, and how, in his incapabilities, desires so much and dreams so much for the girl.

We also dreamed for them, and then soon after, when it is time, we bubbled back into the lake. We heard their prayers echoing from the water, so Cupid smiled at me; then he fell on his knees, closed his eyes a little, and prayed to fate, and to love. He told me everything his heart feels. His inside and outside thoughts. And that is how our story ends.

…There is so much into heaven. God smiled.