Once, there was a little girl. She had red-rimmed glasses and long curly hair that tended to stick up along her forehead in strange wisps. She was a new student in a strange school and a strange class. If you were to ask her what she would remember from then, she wouldn't tell you much. Filipino Haikus. Photosynthesis. Aster Bedico. Mean boys and meaner girls. Oh, there were those books that she read that had...s...s...sex in them. But there was one thing, that burned in her mind for many, many years.
There was another little girl. With a cute smile and rainbow colored school materials and stickers of purple cats. And there was a horse with eyes like mirrors. And a blue moon with funny make-up on it. This second little girl could understand and talk to the first little girl like no other. They smiled and laughed together, and as most stories go, became the best of friends.
They only had each other for two years, but all they needed was each other. Later on, other people came and went, but their friendship remained. They were inseparable, and had as many difference as they had similarities. But there was one special little secret that the second little girl had, that no one else knew. The first girl only found out about it much later, but never told a soul.
You see...her bestest friend was an angel. An angel with a broken wing.
It all fit in so perfectly when you think about it. The second little girl always seemed to not pay so much attention to the world around her. That was because playful little cherubs would come down to whisper half-made songs and baby dreams. And there was the fact that she was graceful and so clumsy at the same time. That was quite easy to explain, since the second little girl had only ONE broken wing, she never did get used to walking with them like that.
The first little girl never saw her friend mad. And never had they truly argued with each other. No matter how infuriating and unbelievable the first girl could get, the second little one could never even muster a true glare (she tried, really, but it didn't work out like it was supposed to, you see). And this went on for such a long time, and the first little girl realized that her friend couldn't be normal. It just wasn't right. Normal people always got mad. The first little girl knew this because she had a certain knack for figuring out things like that.
And so the years went by, like a blur as most people say. The two little girls changed and such, but they never strayed from each other. The first little girl was smart, and knew that not many people had a bestest friend who was an angel one broken wing. And goodness knows why the second little girl stayed, but she did.
Then came a time when the two little girls weren't so little anymore. In fact, the two became young ladies that set out to conquer life. But the first not-so-little girl faltered and fell along the way of her conquest, and didn't know how to get up. She had no wings to fly with, and was only human. The second not-so-little girl didn't quite know what to do...so she plucked out a feather out of her broken wing and gave it to her dear friend.
"What's this for?"
"For good luck. For every time you fall, so will one of my feathers."
"But how will your wing ever heal if you do that?"
"You're more important to me than that, silly."
And so it was. The first not-so-little girl fell and fell again, for her eyes always had tears in them, and she couldn't walk right. But as promised, the second not-so-little girl would pluck a feather from her broken wing, and wipe away the tears with it.
Of course, other people attempted to help the first not-so-little girl. She had not-so-little friends, even if they were few. But everywhere she went, a small feather would find it's way in her everyday life. They were battered little feathers, and not so bright and shiny as normal angel feathers...and yet they shone with a light that only love could manage. But her feathers were slowly disappearing, and soon the second not-so-little girl wouldn't have any hope of healing. But she didn't tell any of this to her bestest friend.
Once again, time passed, but not so fast as before. One day, the second not-so-little girl told her bestest friend that she had big news. You see, the Big People Upstairs finally realized what had happened to this angel with a broken wing, and decided to do something about it. So they gave her a brand new pair of wings...but with all things, there came a catch.
The angel who could no longer be called the angel with a broken wing would have to go far away, past an ocean and out of reach. The big people had thought it wasn't right for the second not-so-little girl to share all of her light with only one not-so-little girl.
Strangely, the first not-so-little girl did not cry. She knew she would see her bestest friend again, ocean or no. And she had so many feathers with her now, she was planning to put them together one day and fly to see her dear almost-sister. The angel did not cry either, for she must have been thinking the same thing.
And so it came to pass, the angel flew away one morning. The second not-so-little girl suddenly became very little again, and cried until she felt like she had created another ocean to separate them. And suddenly she felt like she was in a strange place with strange people all around her, for everyone else needed her to talk out loud for them to understand her. They weren't angels of course, so the second once-again-little-girl could understand.
But she didn't want to understand. This was only the first day, and she already felt so lonely. And so, with strange new tears in her eyes, the little girl took all the precious feathers and started to sew them together. She was never really good at it, and came closer to sewing her own fingers together, but she worked on it. And she still does, right at this moment.
And maybe one day, our little girl will have her own set of wings to fly and see her angel...who once had a broken wing.
I love you Christine. And I miss you so much already.
i wrote this barely a month or two after she left the philippines, two years ago.