There’s no one talking to me, no one phoning me, no one expecting anything from me
A voice jolts me out of my daydreams. “Would you like anything to drink, madam?” I look up to see a stewardess smiling down at me. Her name tag reads “Angel.”
“I like your name,” I say. “I call my little boy the same thing.”
She laughs and thanks me. “The problem is,” she says, “that I don’t always want to be an angel.”
I was an angel the last few days. I didn’t eat and I didn’t sleep. I had only five days to give to my daughter — I couldn’t leave my family for any longer — and I was determined to get the maximum out of every single minute, for her sake. My own physical needs switched off as I worked nonstop from early morning to late at night. Bad enough that I couldn’t support her through the birth (aside from crying into my Tehillim from 2,000 miles away); now it was time to get things done!
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