A musing connection

"Are you busy?"

"Matter of fact, yes, and you?" 

“Just waiting out the spin cycle so I can start the dryer."

“Yep, these are exciting times here at the laundromat." 

“Hey, do you believe in angels?"

"Excuse me?"

"Angels."

"What about angels?"

"I saw one here, last week."

"Really."

"Yes, really. I came back today, but I doubt I'll see her again."

"Oh, it was a her. Pretty good-looking, was she?"

"That's not the half of it."

"What’s the other half?"

"I was sitting here, minding my own business. I'm here every week. I know everyone. There's Mary, and Francis, and..." 

"I get it, you're a regular. But I do have work to do.”

"I was sitting right here. I looked up to see if my washer was still spinning and there she was. I've been trying to explain it to myself ever since."

“Explain what?”

"Well, something about her was out of place, like she wasn't from around here. I saw it and felt it. I've been trying to find the right words ever since. Maybe if I think it through, I’d make sense of it."

“It seems fairly simple. Just describe who you saw."

"I'll try, but I don't think I can even describe her age."

“Come on, how can that be?" 

“At first she looked like she was eighteen or nineteen, but that seemed so wrong."

"Maybe it seemed so wrong because you don't want to be some creepy old guy leering at a teenager."

"I already know I’m a creepy old guy to some people. There's nothing I can do about that. But I’m not a dirty old man. There's a difference. I wasn't thinking about her that way. She was beautiful, but I was only trying to guess her age. She could've been anywhere from eighteen to forty. But then other things happened."

"Wait, before those other things, can you describe how she looked?" 

“That's all I've been doing lately. She had no clear age about her. She was on the taller side, maybe five-nine. She was thin, but in good shape."

"So she was lithe, like a yoga instructor?”

"Exactly like that.”

"Being lithe doesn't make anyone an angel."

"Of course not! But it's one of the things that I’m trying to describe."

“Okay, I’m trying to imagine her. Go on."

"Her hair was pulled up above her head, tied, and then flowed down to her shoulders. It was golden."

"Golden? Don't you mean blonde?"

"No, I mean golden. If I were to describe her hair and skin, I would say they were shades of gold. There was a golden aura around her.”

"Except for the golden glow, that doesn't seem too odd. Have you seen people lately? There are diverse blends of races and ethnicities like never before in human history!"

"I know that. People live in almost every corner of the world, and skin-tones range from opaque-black to translucent-white. But I don't judge anyone by that.

"We’ll always agree on that. So getting back to her…"

“Now she wasn’t some gold-painted James Bond villain. I know how ridiculous that sounds. But if I’m describing her, I wouldn't say tan or light-brown. I’d say she radiated as golden.”

"What was she wearing?"

“It was a white summer dress. Short. I don't know the first thing about women’s fashion. It looked like very light material. It sure didn't fit in with normal clothes around here."

“Maybe I should get back to writing."

"I know it sounds crazy. Her dress was light and airy. In this town, folks wear rugged outdoor clothes year-round for hiking and camping. It was cool outside, and on her feet she was wearing some very simple sandals. How do you explain that?"  

"Explain what, her clothing?"

“Her clothing and the rest of her. This beautiful, ageless, peaceful being was warm and happy, yet seemed so disconnected from normal, everyday problems. She was definitely out of place."

“That’s a bit of a reach.”

"Maybe. But I find that people around here, if they aren't just passing through, can come off as pretty stressed. I can't blame’em. Driving older cars, working low-paying jobs, doing their best raising kids. But this angel seemed untouched by any drama or negativity. In this rugged place, she radiated happiness and serenity.”

“Okay, so to recap, there was a woman, without a definitive age, who did not appear to be from around here. She was beautiful, lithe, had a sweet smile, and radiated serenity. She had golden hair and skin, and was wearing out-of-season clothing. I'm still not seeing an angel."

"Well, maybe that's because you weren't paying enough attention!"

"Well, was I there?"

"Being there was never the issue. There were plenty of people here- and then not here.”

"What does that mean?"

“There must've been a dozen people here. Look around, a dozen is a noticeable number. But I looked down for a few seconds, and when I looked up, everyone was gone. It was only her and I."

“How is that possible?"

“They didn’t just disappear. I'm no fool. Maybe a couple went outside for a smoke, maybe some were loading clothes in their cars or they just went outside to get some sun. But it seemed intentional, like they were compelled to leave for a few minutes.”

“That’s odd.”

“I’ve always believed that unexplainable things happen. This existence, our time-and-space, whatever you want to call it, every once-in-a-while something occurs and you find yourself in an entirely unexpected situation. Some people might believe it to be spiritual, or transcendental. Some of us are just too preoccupied to even notice. I'm at a loss for words."

“Okay, keep trying. What else?”

"There was the smile on her face the whole time I saw her. She didn't have any headphones on or those pods in her ears. She was humming. She radiated happiness.”

"I don't think that’s mysterious. Some people just have a certain charisma." 

“This was a lot more than charisma.” 

“Okay, did she say anything?”

"Not really. She seemed detached, except when I saw that everyone was gone. She caught me looking at her. Our eyes met. I couldn't look away.”

"Did she react?"

"She gave me a smile and a knowing nod." 

"A knowing nod?"

"I'm not crazy. This angel smiled at me like she knew something, like she knew everything! It took my breath away. I trembled.”

“Did she say anything?”

“This is the difficult part. She didn’t say anything out loud. It was more of a feeling. I felt a rush of emotions. Then I heard the words the same as if she was whispering them in my ear."

"What words?"

“You are not alone”.

"It's emotional for me to relive it. I believe that she wanted me to feel those words. She knew how much I needed them. Like a lot of folks these days, I’ve been having some issues; health issues, getting older issues. Living alone on the road can be a struggle. I think she could’ve been my guardian angel."

“Well, I won’t argue that she wasn't."

"I’ve had dreams about my guardian angel over the years. I recognized her through her energy, her light."

"I get it. I’ve had dreams and experiences like that.”

“See, you do believe it!"

"I'm not saying that. I’m saying I can empathize. I've had dreams about who I would call my guardian angel, or my soulmate. But it’s so cliche. I never thought about going public and claim I met her in the real-world."

"Shoot, what's the real-world anyway?"

"You have a point there.”

“After our eye-to-eye encounter, she went outside to the parking lot and got in her Jeep."

"She drove a Jeep too?” 

“It was blue, and sparkling new. I could see some white sneakers on her dashboard, and in back, there was a very large and very alert German Shepherd."

“What do you make of that?”

"From the front seat, she turned around and scratched behind his ears. He seemed to enjoy it and then looked at her, head tilted. She tilted her head right back. It looked like they were communicating. She was still smiling the sweetest smile. Her shepherd watched over her.”

"Her shepherd watched over her? Are you hearing yourself? 

“Yes, I hear myself. But maybe they were on a mission.”

“What mission? The mission of doing her laundry?"

"Why are you being sarcastic?"

“This isn't easy.”

"Maybe her mission was to reassure me. To calm my soul. She bowed her head like someone looking at their phone, but I never saw a phone. And again, her shepherd was watching over her."

"And again, do you hear yourself?”

"Just keep an open mind."

"I’m trying."

“She started the Jeep, and a white cloud billowed out the back."

"A white cloud. From a new Jeep?”

“Then she backed up right into that boulder over by the entrance."

“So there was a billowing white cloud and she smacked into that boulder."

"Yep. Then she stepped out of the vehicle, calm as can be. That smile was still on her face. She went around the back, looked at her bumper against the boulder. Then I swear, she looked up smiling, and shook her fist playfully at the sky. Then she got back in and pulled out into the street."

“Are you sure about that?"

"Would it matter anymore if I wasn't?" 

"I suppose not."

"Look at the boulder, okay? You see it?"

"Yeah it, it looks…like a scrape...of gold."

“Yes! That’s physical proof of the entire incident right there!”

"Is it really proof? I'm pretty sure she didn’t have a gold bumper."

"That's part of the mystery. Would it be such a surprise if the mark she left was golden?"

"I give up. So is that it? The end of the story?”

"Of course not."

“Of course not. So what else?”

“Well, she pulled out and turned towards Main Street. I wanted to see which way she’d go; right towards Sedona or left towards Jerome. But I lost sight of her for a few seconds because of those bushes. And she never came out the other side!"

“What?"

"She disappeared. Gone. Damnedest thing." 

"Who could grasp that? No one will believe that. You must've missed something. How could that have possibly happened?"

"Because it's happened before. Throughout life, every now and then we experience things that we think cannot be possible. Profound experiences that are mysterious, unsettling, but deeply inspiring.”

“Like what?”

“Like the two guys I saw disappear in the middle of a farm field back in the seventies. And not long after, there was that strange creature who glared at me as it crossed the road in the northern wilderness. And in ’81, those moving lights in the night sky over the Badlands of South Dakota.

“Okay, I get it.”

“I try to pay attention to what’s going on around me. I don't take things for granted. I was paying attention that day.” 

"But why your guardian angel? Isn't that a bit too much man-made mythology?”

"I’ve gone back and forth on that. I call her my guardian angel because it’s a common concept. While angels are connected with religion, of which I am not a participant, maybe the concept of angels is easier to grasp. On the other hand, maybe I shouldn’t tell anyone about this."

"But isn't that what you've been doing?"

"If that's what you believe."

"Why does it matter what I believe?"

"Because, at the end of the day, you get to decide."

"Decide what?"

"Decide how you're going to explain it. Decide what experiences are most profound. Decide what you see, what is real, what is transcendent. Now you get to decide who you shared that connection with…an innocent teenager, a beautiful woman, an inspirational muse, or a guardian angel."

"What do you mean, who I shared a connection with?"

"Because maybe now you can finish writing about her. 

“After all, isn't that what you’ve been doing?"