Guardian Angel

I sat at the bus stop waiting for it to arrive in the pouring rain, when a man approached me.  I looked at him oddly at first. From my point of view he looked as if he we're a giant, staring down at me with devils eyes. As he sat down beside me with a slight smile, he began into a story about his childhood years. The good, the bad, and of course, the ugly. 1

"I remember when I was about your age. I sat on a bench quite similar to this one that you sit on, with tears in my eyes, blaming the world for my own insecurities." He lit himself a cigarette and motioned one for me, which I gratefully took. He started again. 2

"It was raining just like tonight, and I had nothing but water from the creek across from my cabin, and four dollars. Buses back then only cost 50 cents." He laughed at that to himself, as he looked from me to the street.3

"To tell ya the truth kid, I'm trying to remember for the life of me, but I can't seem to figure out why I ran away in the first place. I'm sure it had something to do with my parents not treating me the way I wanted, or being made fun of, or something along those lines, but, I can't remember the exact reasoning. It almost seems pointless. Not that I'm trying to talk you out of it. I know what kind of mind state you're in, and I'm in no position to tell you what to do, or not do in this matter." At this point, I wanted to look at him. I wanted to show him understanding, instead of the resentment I'm sure he thought I held for him, but I didn't. I kept my eyes on the black fog, and kept my ears open, waiting for him to say more.4

" I never came home." He whispered. Almost too low for me to hear. He sounded so disappointed, so, regretful.5

"He died. My Father that is. Three years after I left. I have no idea how they got ahold of me. I changed my name, moved three states away, I was practically lost in the world for all they knew. I went to his funeral, and my Mother was there, crying of course. I wasn't going to walk up to her. I was just going to pay my respects and be on my way, I had other things to do anyway. She came up to me though. I guess she had different plans."6

"She talked to me about my Dad mostly. Nothing with my running away, except asking the famous,"How have you been?" I wanted to show her sympathy, but, I didn't want to look weak after all those years. At the end of the funeral, I was getting ready to leave, when my Mother came up to me one last time. She thanked me for coming, hugged me goodbye, and slipped a note in my pocket, and I left." At this point, the man looked down with a cold look in his eyes, as if he had just witnessed a murder. His look was frozen to the ground, concentrated on the raindrops that hit the pavement. I thought he was done talking, and as much as I wanted to say something, I didn't want him to stop talking, so I said nothing, and just waited.7

"I forgot about the note. For weeks. It wasn't until I reached in my coat pocket later that month for a few dollars that I pulled out the note." He then began in a deeper voice, as if it were his Dad I'm assuming talking in the letter, and explained to me what he read that day.8

"Son, If you ever get this, that means that you know I have passed away, and that you are still living in this great, glorious world. I'm sorry I couldn't give you all that you ever wanted. I know you'll make it out there just fine, I believe in you. I'm just not sure what made you not believe in me. Don't blame yourself, because, I don't blame myself. You needed to figure yourself out in order to figure out our ways of raising you, and it's nothing you did that could've prevented me from dying. I've been sick since way before you were born. Please take all my mistakes in life as the amount of times my heart goes out to you each second, and I will see you again when time is ready." I didn't know why he ran away, or the journey he had to take to get where he was, if it was hard or not, or anything close to knowing his lifestyle on the run, but I did get the message that he tried to point out.
"I'm going to take this as my Dad said it. Right now, you're trying to figure out yourself."9

I hadn't said a word from the time he reached the bench, to the time his mouth stopped moving. He finally looked me in the eye as the rain drops were falling from my chin, and tears falling from my cheeks. Hopefully, he couldn't tell which was which. I was speechless. I didn't know how I should reply, or better yet... If I should reply. He somehow made me feel, comfortable in a way. Like, I had known him for years. We sat there for a good 15 minutes, staring at the street light across the road, as if it we're going to answer all of our questions that we held in life. Although this man never told me so, I knew in my heart that he was planning to go with me on whatever journey I was about to take. 10

Soon after our daze into the darkness, the bus finally reached our stop. I slowly got up and picked up the few small bags I had, along with my now cold coffee that I clung to closely, and headed for the doors of the bus. Not hearing him, but knowing he was right behind me, I pondered through countless thoughts in a few short seconds. I took my first step onto the bus, stood for what seemed to be an eternity, and quietly turned around. He walked me back to the place I had called home, still not saying a word to each other, but sharing the feeling of understandment between the both of us. Once I reached the window of my bedroom, he helped me back inside the dry, safe place. I looked at him in his eyes,that once reminded me of evil, but now were filled with pure innocence and warmth. and finally built up enough courage to say one sentence, "Thank you. You've changed my life." He showed his slight smile once again, and winked. As I closed the window, I knew I'd never see that man again, So I watched him walk away into the fog of the surroundings. 11

The next day, I had a discussion with my family about the appreciation I hold for people in the world, as we sat and ate breakfast, as a family. They hadn't known about the night before, my experience, or my attempt to run away, but they understood my emotional melt down. We passed around the newspaper, and as I received the front page, I found that man. He had died two days earlier in a car crash. A single tear rolled down my cheek as I stared at the face, that looked much different in light than it did in the dark rain.12

There was an angel with me, watching over me, helping me. He saved my life, he saved me from myself. Now, every night, I look out my window into the darkness and up to the stars, and I see that man, with his slight smile, and I hear his kind and thoughtful words cross my mind once again. This is why I am here, still at home, never wanting to leave again. I feel his comfort wherever I go. I have found my guardian angel. 13