I have been given a gift on this day, and I am deeply grateful for the kindness.
I was in conversation with one of my younger protégés about one of her charges when another angel joined us. To my surprise and delight, it was Lubos. Poor Sixta was completely tongue-tied; outside of our seniors, she has never spoken directly with a Power. Lubos, however, was very kind, asking about her charges and offering some advice of his own.
When she had gone, Lubos turned to me with a smile. “I have been hearing about your hard work, Asa’el,” he said. “And I am shamefully late in offering my congratulations for your promotion to Principality.”
“Please, none of that,” I protested. “I know that you rejoiced with me.”
“So I did. It seems then that you have used the new power wisely and well. How are your charges?”
I passed some pleasant moments discussing my charges with him. We do not often get idle moments to share our work with our sisters and brothers. It is a shame, because I gained much from that brief conversation. Lubos is one of our most talented cupids, and he had insight that I would never have discovered for myself.
When I had finished my update, I asked Lubos in turn, “And I certainly hope that your charges are well?”
The question made him smile, for he could hear my curiosity behind it. “In fact, I have come to find you because my most singular charge has been thinking of something that I believe may help you. You have found her opinions helpful in the past; would you like to hear her thoughts?”
How could I refuse? Just to hear anything from Freya would be a privilege, and that it would be something relevant to my current struggles would be—well, perfectly in character for her, really.
“I would be delighted to hear,” I told Lubos.
Here, however, was where he surprised and delighted me the most, for he did not simply repeat Freya’s words. Instead he smiled and spread his wings, and sweeping me along with me, he brought me down to Earth.
It was a late afternoon in Boston, the sun glimmering around from the many glass surfaces, but with a faint breeze promising rain later in the evening. Despite this, many people were in the park, sitting together on benches, running through the fountain, or walking along the sidewalks.
Even among so many, she shone.
Freya and Ryan were walking arm-in-arm through the grass, their shoes and socks in hand. She had let down her long red hair with the first breath of breeze, and every time it blew she turned her face to it. When the wind was quiet, she looked back up at the sun, which had already burnished her freckles dark on preceding walks. She let Ryan decide where they were going, leaning just slightly on them as they went.
She is still so beautiful, and I was struck dumb, content just to watch her.
It was a while before she broke the companionable silence between them, and when she did, she did not address Ryan directly. “The leaping fountains, sustain the wide green walkway, framed by skyscrapers.”
I looked to Lubos for an explanation of this.
“Haiku,” he explained. “A form of Japanese poetry. Its composition is one of Freya’s hobbies.”
It was humbling to realize that I still know very little about this woman. She is a wonderful mystery.
Ryan was less impressed with Freya’s composition than I was. “Eh,” he said.
She nudged him with her hip, and they laughed together. There is an ease and a comfort between them that was a joy to see. Lubos has done his work well.
I was beginning to think that Lubos had simply made up an excuse to bring me to see Freya when her eye was caught by another couple, sitting together on a nearby bench. As we passed, we could hear the young woman ranting and complaining about something. To me, the fury of her words nearly obscured the meaning. And beside her, her man only watched her, a small, loving smile on his face.
“People are complicated,” Freya said.
Ryan glanced down at her. “You’re right,” he said.
She shook her head. “No, listen, I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. You can think that you know someone, but then they turn around and surprise you. You can put someone in a little box in your head, and for years they never step out of the boundaries you put them in, and then one day they do, and you realize you just never saw that part of them. You can assume you know what someone is thinking and be completely and utterly wrong. People are so fucking complicated.”
Ryan absorbed this for a moment. “Is this just an observation, or—?”
She laughed a bit at that. “Pure poetic admiration of a subject. I can capture a person in three lines, but then also I could write a three-hundred page novel about someone and still get some of it wrong or leave something out. There is nothing, no tool on Earth, that can completely comprehend a human being.”
This time, Ryan was impressed. “Not even another human being?” he asked.
“Not completely, no,” Freya said. She glanced up at him and smiled. “You gotta keep on your toes.”[1]
He kissed her gently, and they walked on, but Lubos and I remained where we were. “You see?” he asked me.
“I do, yes,” I replied. I tend to assume that I know my charges fully, that I know what they want and what is best for them. But people are complicated, even those who seem simple at first, and even I cannot presume that I know everything about them. Myrtle’s ties to her family, Pamela’s temporary relationship, Brooke and Morgan’s separation, and Jonathan’s love of solitude all need and deserve to be handled by someone who is following not an ideal of them, but who they are. And that means I must be ready to incorporate any changes and new revelations as I go—indeed, I should expect these things.
So I thank my brother, and I would thank Freya if I could, for this wisdom that will help me to know my charges better. I am on my toes.
[1] This is an idiomatic expression that means to be ready for anything—when one is on one’s toes, one can move more quickly in whatever direction is best.