I was in the local thrift store, sniffing around, when I came upon an angel figurine about a foot tall.
She was beautiful and marked down to $2.50.
I had to look twice to make sure I read it right.
A snarky woman watching snapped, “You’re not buying that, are you?”
When I looked surprised, she said, “She’s got a chip in one of her wings. That’s why she’s so cheap,” shaking her head like I was the biggest asshole on the planet.
When I looked closer, indeed she had a chip, so of course you know, I bought her anyway.
To quote Seabiscuit, one of my favorite films:
You don’t throw away a whole life just because it’s banged up a little.
As the cashier wrapped her in tissue, I noticed a little Latino girl outside, sitting on a bench.
She was maybe 12, looking awfully sad, so naturally I had to go ask why.
She said, her mother was sick, and she was trying to help her. But her grandmother said, she was being a pest and sent her out with ice cream money.
As tears streamed down her face, matching mine that were about to, I unwrapped the angel and said, “I think this would be a great present for your mom. She has a little chip in her right wing, but she’s still beautiful.”
The little girl’s eyes lit up, before clouding again, saying, “My grandmother will think I stole it.”
Boy, did I want to smack Gramma.
So, instead of Joan of Bark, my Bonnie Parker came out and said, “Tell Granny you bought her with your ice cream money.”
We both shook on this, before watching her skip down Second Avenue, three angels, with just a little chip.
I’m just looking for an angel, with a broken wing…Jimmy Page
Sing it, Jimmy.