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Their mother would always set another plate for anyone hungry, even though it was only turtle soup. Her turtle soup was wonderful though.
They allowed a Native American man to stay with them for a while. My father warned me to stay away from him, but I couldn't. While he was there, I went to their house as quickly as was possible to sit on his knee.
There I spent my ninth year of summer days drawing butterflies on one side of a notebook as he taught me how the butterfly went from worm to flying loveliness and what each dot and line meant on those beautiful insects.
"You are a special child," he would say. At the time I didn't understand what he meant, but his patience, teaching, and encouragement meant a lot that summer.
My parents were divorced, and my father was frightened of the man because he said the man was a drunk. Perhaps he was, but he gave me good memories that can never be forgotten.
Now I know that my father thought the man might have been a child molester, too. This man never asked anything of me but to listen and let him teach me. He was an angel who gave of his time, unselfishly, to a little girl.
Angelic spirits are always ready to assist anyone who needs them. Making those in need feel better for having been in their presence is part of their mission. Their loving warmth gives people knowledge of what the afterlife can be.
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