Gabriel; The Messenger
1/1
The mail always ran late.
The mail always arrived an hour early.
The mail was always wet in the pouring rain, the mail was always dry on the sunny days.
No matter what, the mail arrived every day save for the Sabbath.
She sat on her front porch every day at the right time, an hour early or an hour later to wait for the mail carrier. He was usually late, he was usually early, he was usually a mess, he was usually a neatly dressed man. Despite what he looked like, she yearned to see the smile that he carried every day when he greeted her with a letter, a bill, a box, a sweepstakes, a gospel track, or a sales paper.
Upon his arrival, he’d speak with her for an hour, for a minute, for a second and with each passing day, she’d yearn to hear his voice for a tad bit longer than the day before. It soothed her in her time of need. Her mother was suffering from cancer in a clinic too far to visit every day, and too hard to stay at with the bills she needed to pay at home.
The letters that he delivered told her of her mother’s conditions.
How they’d worsen.
How they’d improve.
How they’d found hope.
How they’d failed to help at all.
Perhaps it was her eagerness from receiving a letter of her mother’s from him, or the sadness of not getting any news from him that kept her from asking the one thing she never got to voice in their conversation.
His name.
She didn’t know it, and he didn’t say at all.
It never came up.
The white shirt and light colored pants caught her attention as she sat on the top step of her front porch. She never looked at any other facial features aside from the sunshine smile, the crystal blue eyes that he had and the ivory color of his skin. When that smile brightened the walk-way to her porch, she couldn’t contain the grin from spreading across her face.
Few words left his lips.
Few words left her lips in return.
His hand held something that she’d been looking forward to for the past few days.
Her eyes never left the white envelope that had her name perfectly printed on the front.
It wasn’t the fancy cursive of her mother’s handwriting.
That sent confusion and curiosity through her being, her mother was always the one that wrote to her, no one else. But the thing that confused her the most was that bright smile of his that had dimmed with sadness. Before she could take the letter from his hand, his freehand clasped around hers and he squeezed softly. Her eyes connected with those crystal blue irises and he spoke.
“I was sent to give you this last letter. God had different plans, ones that didn’t involve your mother being in any further pain.”
Those words shocked her. How’d he know? Unless he peeked at the letter, but the flap was still sealed shut and it didn’t look like anyone had fumbled with it at all. But then the words he spoke dawned on her, her mother wasn’t in anymore pain… that meant— no. A lump formed in her throat, constricting it, and she knew that if she tried to speak, a sob would pour out.
“I was merely here this whole time to deliver this message to you, I bid you farewell and good tidings. Your mother sends her love.”
Within the blink of an eye, his saddened smile was the last she saw of him.
The letter rest in her hand.
He had disappeared.
The kind stranger.
The messenger.
Gabriel.
The mail always arrived an hour early.
The mail was always wet in the pouring rain, the mail was always dry on the sunny days.
No matter what, the mail arrived every day save for the Sabbath.
She sat on her front porch every day at the right time, an hour early or an hour later to wait for the mail carrier. He was usually late, he was usually early, he was usually a mess, he was usually a neatly dressed man. Despite what he looked like, she yearned to see the smile that he carried every day when he greeted her with a letter, a bill, a box, a sweepstakes, a gospel track, or a sales paper.
Upon his arrival, he’d speak with her for an hour, for a minute, for a second and with each passing day, she’d yearn to hear his voice for a tad bit longer than the day before. It soothed her in her time of need. Her mother was suffering from cancer in a clinic too far to visit every day, and too hard to stay at with the bills she needed to pay at home.
The letters that he delivered told her of her mother’s conditions.
How they’d worsen.
How they’d improve.
How they’d found hope.
How they’d failed to help at all.
Perhaps it was her eagerness from receiving a letter of her mother’s from him, or the sadness of not getting any news from him that kept her from asking the one thing she never got to voice in their conversation.
His name.
She didn’t know it, and he didn’t say at all.
It never came up.
The white shirt and light colored pants caught her attention as she sat on the top step of her front porch. She never looked at any other facial features aside from the sunshine smile, the crystal blue eyes that he had and the ivory color of his skin. When that smile brightened the walk-way to her porch, she couldn’t contain the grin from spreading across her face.
Few words left his lips.
Few words left her lips in return.
His hand held something that she’d been looking forward to for the past few days.
Her eyes never left the white envelope that had her name perfectly printed on the front.
It wasn’t the fancy cursive of her mother’s handwriting.
That sent confusion and curiosity through her being, her mother was always the one that wrote to her, no one else. But the thing that confused her the most was that bright smile of his that had dimmed with sadness. Before she could take the letter from his hand, his freehand clasped around hers and he squeezed softly. Her eyes connected with those crystal blue irises and he spoke.
“I was sent to give you this last letter. God had different plans, ones that didn’t involve your mother being in any further pain.”
Those words shocked her. How’d he know? Unless he peeked at the letter, but the flap was still sealed shut and it didn’t look like anyone had fumbled with it at all. But then the words he spoke dawned on her, her mother wasn’t in anymore pain… that meant— no. A lump formed in her throat, constricting it, and she knew that if she tried to speak, a sob would pour out.
“I was merely here this whole time to deliver this message to you, I bid you farewell and good tidings. Your mother sends her love.”
Within the blink of an eye, his saddened smile was the last she saw of him.
The letter rest in her hand.
He had disappeared.
The kind stranger.
The messenger.
Gabriel.