“Are you with anyone?” “No. Why?” “Otherwise I might have to ask you out.”
It was pandemonium. On an otherwise bright day, someone had been shot in Small Springs Elementary School.
Then it became quiet.
A small, somber boy, perhaps of age eight or nine, rose and walked to the podium. Beneath him, parents wearing black sat in chairs. Some kids fidgeted while other kids cried—not because of the gravity of the event necessarily, but because something was wrong to them. Something unimaginable and incomprehensible. Something a teacher can only answer, “She’s … left” or “She’s … gone to a better place now” when asked why little Maria wasn’t at the school anymore.
The small boy stood on a stool to reach the microphone. He closed his eyes and opened them.
“On the playground, kids have a game called Tag. We run around and tag each other It. Maria never was It. She sat on a bench and looked on. It’s hard to discern what she’s thinking, but it was beautiful. Today, Maria is It; she was tagged hard. She is one less playmate, one less recipient of our Valentines and Hand Turkeys, one less smiling face, one less person on my bus seat on Friday afternoons. Her seat is now empty. I do not know who to ask paper from anymore—I do not know what to believe anymore. Disillusion is a bitter vitamin to swallow. She befriended me, a stocky and equally quiet young child. Just one person lost, yet infinitely painful. Maria is not worth ‘all the world’ or ‘all the money I have.’ If she were, we would trade ‘all the world’ and ‘all the money we have’ for her, but nothing can bring ‘goneness’ back. Nothing can fill the void—nothing as innocent, nothing as beautiful. For her parents, it’s one less child to take to Grandma’s house at Christmas. For her brothers, it’s one less sibling to blame. For her teachers, it’s one less pair of scissors to buy.”
He closed his eyes again and opened them again. He regarded his betters disdainfully.
“Why are you sad!” He leaned closer. “You’re blotting them out with your veils and black clothes. Listen! for God and Maria, listen!” He stopped, and it was quiet. But if you listened closely… “The angels are singing!” he declared. The angels were singing. “The angels are singing because one of their own has returned to them today,” he explained. “We borrowed Maria, and now we have given her back.”