Human

An old woman told me I looked like a doll. An old black preacher man thanked me for making him feel welcome in this store and for not being blinded by color. He said, "Who knows, you might be an angel." I smiled and thanked him-but inside I raged-Angels can't be human! And human I am. Angels don't make mistakes, as a human I have. Dolls don't feel anything. Even when children cut off all their hair and they become ugly and aged, the doll smiles still in that perfect serenity. These strangers don't care about my past, it is of no consequence to them. Only the now matters. They don't see the hurt lost little girl. They only see a doll with angel's wings and that perfect serene smile that passes all the tests.

4/14/02