Morning comes in Paradise, morning comes in light.She extended her wings, full into the dark early morning. The snow fell gently on the stones at her feet, flakes landing in her hair, on her hands, clasped together with the remnants of wildflowers, placed there by the oldest child, a girl. Her right wing ached, chipped when the woman-girl with the wet eyes tried to move her to a new place and she was returned by the tallest man with the kind eyes.
Still I must obey, still I must invite.
If there's anything to say, if there's anything to do,
If there's any other way, I'll do anything for you.
I was dressed embarrassment.
I was dressed in wine.
If you had a part of me, will you take your time?
Even if I come back, even if I die
Is there some idea to replace my life?
Time to go.
She darted into the night, leaving the gate open behind her. When the man came out he admonished the tiny woman for leaving the gate open. The angel didn't stay long enough to hear the words, she caught the tone and was gone. The downside of explaining her absence would be to pin it on theft and gently place blame rather than to stand and explain miracles in the light.
This is what I choose to believe, because last night someone opened the biggest gate of the four that lead into my backyard and took the angel statue who lived there. Defying three security lights and two neighbors who are in and out at all hours of the day and night.
They just took her. She wasn't theirs. She was MINE.
I won't get her back. That's my out, my final farewell in a city that barely welcomed me and even though I love this house I never really felt safe here and hardly ever ventured out alone as a result.
I think someone was actually in my backyard when I brought the dog home from our early morning walk, because when I left the gate was closed and when I returned it was closed. When Ben went out it was open. I didn't use that gate for my walk anyway, so it's not like maybe I goofed and left it open. More likely someone had cased the yard and made off with the angel because everything is nailed down. The barbecue is locked down. The old stone garage is locked up tight. Good luck getting anything but I really thought no one would have the gall to steal a statue of an angel. How do they know it isn't very important or part of a memorial?
I hope they burn in their shoes, frankly, and when we make it to the pacific I will get a new statue and cement it to the ground this time.
Sometimes I really can't wait to leave.
In other news, box one of the Christmas clementines was a smashing success. It lasted four days and they were all good. Ben's birthday party was a smashing success also. There is leftover cake. The cake theme was monster trucks and Ben ate a hot wheels. Yes he did. Of course he will probably be sorry. That's okay, I say nothing.
No, wait, I actually said Are you going to eat the rest of your cake? Because if you don't want it, I do!
Damn thief.