Читать книгу Fanyasha: Why Do Angels Need People? - Марианна Россет - Страница 7
Chapter 3:
Why Angels Need People
ОглавлениеImagine the most beautiful day, the most pleasant weather, the best mood, the most beautiful house, the coziest room and the greatest happiness which fills you because you are doing exactly what you want to be doing – this, perhaps, is an approximate description of how an angel lives the first years after birth!
There are no worries, no cares, no troubles – nothing can disturb the feeling of absolute bliss, peace and pleasure of each and every moment of a carefree life. As surprising as it sounds, everything is like that, and not otherwise. That is how this world works. Such are the rules of an angel’s preschool upbringing. Everything that a little angel sees, everything that it touches, should always be filled with light, beauty and love. This, furthermore, is how small children are supposed to live too.
Among the soft clouds, in her wonderful warm room filled with either purple, pink or golden light, Fanyasha felt happy and protected.
Her mother and father would fly in to spoil her with nice gifts and kisses; Bosya helped decorate the new room. Now Fanyasha could brag not only about a comfortable snow-white crib, but also about two wonderful armchairs made of peach-colored clouds, a small pink table and a pretty lilac dresser. She had learned to make the pillows herself. She enthusiastically fluffed small curly clouds and then formed them into a variety of shapes, and had a lot of fun doing it.
This way, Fanyasha’s room was filled with numerous large and small pillows of odd shapes. What amused her most was how spooked her grandmother became: every time she found a small angular pillow in her hem, she jumped up screaming and tossed the unwelcome guest away.
“Now stop being naughty!” her grandmother wagged her finger, frowning, and at that moment her lips stretched into a smile that made her big brown eyes radiate unconditional and endless love for her granddaughter.
It was nice being with grandmother – she knew thousands of wonderful fairy tales and songs, taught Fanyasha how to dance and draw wonderful pictures using splashes of light. There were days when the air filled with drops of moisture, and the grandmother taught Fanyasha the craft of rainbow weaving.
It turned out that with the right combination of air and sunlight, one could create a wondrous beauty out of seven colors: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet. One glance at the rainbow, and the heart filled with goodness and joy.
Sometimes grandmother Nokomis surprised her granddaughter with the West wind game. She flew to the upper part of the room, sat by the window facing the wind, brought her long and gracious hands to her lips, blew the air slightly and, gracefully moving her fingers as if playing on invisible stings, created a beautiful play of sounds – it seemed that everything around became music, mysterious and magical.
In these moments, Fanyasha felt a certain power inside herself and even became aware of the wings growing on her back. She closed her eyes and imagined herself flying, strong and beautiful, and her long iridescent dress fluttering in the wind. But alas, she could not fly just yet.
“Everything in its time,” repeated grandmother every time Fanyasha showered her with questions about when she would at last be able to fly out of the room and discover the beauty of this world.
“Mom, I am already two years old, but I still don’t know how to fly!” complained Fanyasha one morning when her mother parted her delicate curly hair and started braiding it.
At the age of two, Fanyasha could talk, sing, dance, and even spell words from children’s books for angels very well. She could count to twenty, make a rainbow, draw well with splashes of light, mold objects out of clouds, and wholeheartedly enjoy herself in her room, but all of this wasn’t enough.
Her inherent inquisitiveness and her desire to constantly discover something new were eating her up, and demanded that she fly beyond the borders of the room, the door to which was positioned too high for this small flightless girl.
“My dear daughter, you will certainly fly when your wings grow and become strong!” replied her mother tenderly, and started making the second braid.
“But mom, when? When will they grow? I don’t want to wait! I want to fly right now! I want to leave the room and look at the house,” screamed Fanyasha and clenched her fists.
Mother did not understand why her daughter had this intense desire to learn about what was happening outside her room. It seemed that, together with father, they did everything right, having created for their daughter a world that was ideal, protected, full of joy and love, and that contained everything she might want.
“We love you very much, and your wings are growing fast. We just need to wait a little longer, my darling,” with these words she hugged Fanyasha, stroked her back, and the girl noticeably calmed down.
“Mom,” she said in a soft voice and looked up at her mother pitifully, “you probably love me only a little… Can you love me more, even a little bit?”
“Of course, sweetheart, of course I can,” replied mother, and pressed her daughter closer to her, and smiled.
Sometimes it is better to agree with the children, even if their request seems impossible or childish. But then, who knows what is indeed possible and what is truly significant in this world.
Perhaps thanks to her mother’s consent to love Fanyasha more, or perhaps as the long-awaited “everything in its time” finally came, Fanyasha felt that she could move from one side of her room to the other without touching the floor in just a couple of days.
This happened so unexpectedly and at the same time so naturally that at first Fanyasha thought that she was imagining it. She tried again and again, and when she was convinced that she could indeed fly, she twirled and shrieked with joy!
“Hey,” Bosya’s head appeared in the doorway with a frightened expression, “what’s going on? Need any help?” he said while examining the room for the purpose of discovering something unusual.
“I am flyyying! Flyyying! Look!” Fanyasha screamed with delight. Gracefully spreading her arms to her sides, she pushed off one wall, flew to the other, rose higher and higher. Here is the window, so close, and the cherished door, and…
“Aaaa!” she screamed, and plummeted downward.
Bosya immediately dashed to his sister and managed to
grab her by leg right before she reached the floor.
Of course, falling on the soft downy floor in Fanyasha’s room
wouldn’t hurt her, but Bosya was proud to be able to perform such a
brave and fast maneuver to catch his falling sister.
“This means that I am indeed brave and resolute,” thought Bosya,
and carefully sat his sister in an armchair.
Fanyasha was silent for a couple moments until her eyes filled with tears; then she threw herself on the floor and sobbed loudly. She was bitter that she couldn’t reach the door, and ran out of strength in her wings so treacherously fast.
“Hmmm,” mumbled Bosya perplexedly.
Fanyasha cried so loudly and so bitterly that he couldn’t concentrate and figure out what one needs to do with a crying girl.
It did not cross his mind, as it wouldn’t cross the mind of any fourteen-year-old angel-boy, that a crying person needs to be hugged and kissed. Bosya was certain that important and useful knowledge always helps. Narrowing his eyes, he began going over everything he studied at school about tears, but could not pick anything appropriate for this occasion.
“…There are tears of happiness and tears of pain… Tears cleanse… Tears transform… Tears transfigure… They help understand… They help accept…” was whirling in his head. “Ok, maybe this,” he thought, flew up to his sister and blurted out, “Fanya, everything is ok. Tears are necessary and important. Tears signal moving from one state to the next. People have a hard time comprehending this, but angels know this to be true. That is why we need to accept tears with gratitude. There.”
“What?” Fanyasha asked keenly while looking up, and calmed down immediately. She quickly wiped her tears with the hem of her purple dress, and sat across from her brother.
“Who are ‘people’”?
“Uh oh,” mumbled Bosya, and his eyes darted around the room as if he was trying to find something that could get him out of this awkward situation.
“Well, they’re… well, how do you say it… Well, I…I don’t even know what to tell you.”
How could he mess up so badly! From the first grade of elementary school he had had a whole class dedicated to correct information handling. And he remembered how important it was not to disturb the carefree, happy and peaceful ignorance of little angel-preschoolers! And most importantly not to talk about people! What a disaster! What should he do now?
“Bosya! Bosya! Answer! Why are you quiet?” Fanyasha insisted, pulling her brother’s shirt sleeve.
Her brother’s nervous silence ignited her interest more and more.
He knows something interesting! How she dreamed of discovering the answer to at least one of the secrets that surrounded her carefree childhood.
Her parents always flew away to work and were occupied with something very important; Bosya studied at school and learned about new things; she hadn’t seen her grandfather, he had been away on a super secret and super important assignment for a couple years; even her grandmother sometimes disappeared on some important matters. Everyone had their rooms and their secrets and nobody wanted to share!
Fanyasha realized that the world around her was enveloped in mystery. She noticed that her parents, when flying past her room, would often switch to whispering, and when her father helped Borisey with homework, the door to his room was closed shut so that she wouldn’t be able to hear anything.
And so it was finally here, and she wouldn’t miss it for the world! Bosya had said too much and – oh, how lucky she was to have a brother like that – was incapable of lying.
“Answer! Answer now!” she demanded in a whiny tone. “Tell me right now! Tell me everything!”
Bosya froze, shut his lips and just batted his long eyelashes. Then Fanyasha saw that she was not getting anywhere by yelling and decided to change her tactic.
She remembered how softly and lovingly her mother spoke with her father, and how willingly he answered any of her questions. She also remembered how her grandmother whispered to her mother when they were hanging new pearl curtains in Fanyasha’s room, “Men love to be praised, and if the woman does it genuinely and with love, the man will be ready to throw the whole world at her feet!”
“Let’s try!” Fanyasha figured. Especially since she did not need the whole world, she only wanted to find out one little secret.
“Bosechka, my precious brother! You are always so kind and brave! Also, you are such a handsome man! And smart! And curly! Please tell your dear sister, who are ‘people’? ” she twittered.
How fascinating are feminine essence and feminine wisdom. They are passed by word of mouth, by mothers and grandmothers, in a way much better than could be described in books, or explained at school. Interestingly, even a little baby like Fanyasha could remember and apply this experience.
Bosya relaxed a little, came to his senses, pensively scratched his head, then frowned and tried to invent a fairy tale where people were a special type of cloud, or another word for a ray of light, but quickly saw that he wasn’t capable of doing that.
Fanyasha sat closer to her brother and tried to give him an understanding and tender look just like her mother would do.
“Fanya, please understand. I…I shouldn’t tell you about people. You are still small and it’s too early for you to know such things.”
“Such things!” this got into her head and she pleaded, “I am begging you, my dear brother, please, tell me at least a little bit, a tiny bit!”
“So, essentially, people are sort of why we exist,” Bosya gave in.
Fanyasha’s eyes rounded and she was waiting for the continuation of this strange idea with interest.
“So, in other words, there are angels and there are people and we sort of help them. And so that’s how we, angels, live, and people are like us only very different. Do you understand?”
Bosya was pulling on his pants nervously.
“So, essentially, it’s difficult for you right now, but an angel is born, and in roughly ten years a person is born for him, and then the person must be helped. Always. There. That’s it! Don’t ask me anything else! I already spilled the beans! And promise not to say a word to anybody about what I told you. Got it? I need to get to school. Bye.”
With these words, Bosya rushed to leave his sister’s room in order not to say anything more.
“Oh, my,” whispered Fanyasha raising her eyebrows, “How about that!”
She understood that she didn’t understand anything, and that was awfully interesting!
“I definitely need to find out more about these ‘people’! Why do we need to help them?.. And most importantly, why do angels need people?..”