Magical Wings

I took off the polka-dotted pot from the stove. The sweet smell of tomato loaded the whole kitchen. I put two plates on the wide table. Sometimes I put three. It’s hard to let him go. He loved my pasta. I had to grate a ton of cheese on it to be good for him. Ricky is the same. He said everything is better with cheese.

I opened the front window and shouted his name. Silence. I knew I had to go to the shed. He spent a lot of time there with his dad. He could barely walk, but he was toddling after him and making a mess everywhere. Later Alan taught him how to drive a nail. This little pickle spiked my hat to the hanger. I remember Alan seeing it and laughing out loud. I would let Ricky do that again, just to hear that insane laugh.

I unhooked my pinky straw from the nail and began my journey to the backyard. We had a huge territory, dressed in green. Breathtaking. I couldn’t imagine that one day I’ll leave the big city life for this. For him. The long blades of grass were tickling my ankles as I was walking. I gave another shot.

“Ricky, can you hear me?” I yelled.

“I’m here, working on something,” came the answer from the building.

The room was small and messy. I wanted to clean it out, but I didn’t have the fortitude to do it. He had a huge deck on the table and painting equipment.

“What are you doing, honey?” I asked him kindly.

“I don’t want you to be sad anymore. I decided to make these special wings. You can visit daddy with them. I just need some help with the carving,” he said with enthusiasm.

Tears were running down my cheeks. How can someone be so pure? He stretched out his right hand to wipe off my tears.

“Of course, I’ll help you, my little angel,” I said while reaching for the gouge.