Heartless, S. G. Ricketts [jenna bush book club TXT] 📗

One angel sits perched upon his lap, golden curls spilling around cherub cheeks. Here, the air is pure. Here, she is healthy, cheeks rosy and eyes bright. She is watching from above, waiting to see what happens.

One angel hangs in limbo, pulled both by heaven and earth. Darkness is around her as he begins to knit her together. His hands brush over her, molding the layers, threading together the pieces. One angel hovers between his hands. Her life hangs by a thread, body barely formed.

I am anchored to earth. I am broken. I am not with the first, in a place of beauty and peace and perfection. I am not with the second, on the edge of death, on the verge of entering life. I am anchored to earth, and I am broken.

I have a cherub of my own, running through my house. His laughter echoes off the walls. His eyes dance, blue as the ocean. He is perfection. He is love. He is fear and anxiety and desperation and self-realization. He is everything. Golden curls tease the back of his neck and he pouts as I brush hair out of his eyes. He is my angel on earth. He is my life.

His sister watches from above. She is whole now, healed and loved, but my heart hurts. Her eyes, her daddy’s eyes, watch us. His sister watches our lives from the safety of his arms, body curled into his side. She is mine. She was mine. She was gone before I could tell her. I had her for so little time. My heart bleeds with the memory. Baby blues watch the world below as she waits for her sister.

The third is fighting. She might yet be whole. She might yet hear my whispered words. I am bound to earth, neither able to heal her nor able to hold her. I am afraid. This is yet another angel I don’t feel like letting go. She falls, closer and closer to the darkness, closer and closer to his heaven. She fights, struggling to stay in the world. His hands continue to give her life, but it is slow. Why? Why is it so slow? Why is he torturing her?

My mind is confused. Pray for her life, or pray for her healing? Pray to see her face, or pray to see her perfection? No…there is no doubt. I am selfish. I want my angel here. I want her in my arms, wrinkled face snuggled against my arm, tiny fingers clasped around my thumb. I want her. I want

her. I am selfish, but I refuse to pray for anything other than her to stay on earth, bound by its chains. I want my son, and I want my daughter. Their sister was not made for this world. I will come to terms with that, but this one. This one…

I am anchored to earth. I cannot be with the first angel. I will not be with the second, if she leaves me. I will be with my son, but the pain… The pain might consume me. The guilt, the fear, the depression. I have no control. I am merely human, but if there is anything I can do, I will pray. I will pray to him who holds my angel, that he will let me hold this one first. I have no control other than love, and I will be destroyed if I lose her.

One more angel, one less child. Lord please, no.

Elizabeth, watch over your sister. Watch over Eliana. I have faith that the Lord will respond. Eliana…my child… I cannot do this again. I cannot bear it again… For now, I am anchored to earth.

Publication Date: 05-13-2011

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