I Don’t Remember When I Was An Angel

I don’t remember when I was an angel. Mom once told me that before we were born we were all angels in heaven and that we lived with God. She said we had lots of toys to play with and that we ate chocolate ice cream for dinner. But I don’t remember what it was like. So I’m not sure that I’m going to like it that much the next time I go there.

I don’t remember what its like to be a baby. I saw a photo once of a bald baby. Dad said it was me when I was six months old. I was chubby with a round face and I was smiling at the camera with a toothless baby grin. Maybe the camera man was saying "watch the birdie." But I really don’t know why I was smiling because I don’t remember.

I don’t remember how it feels to sit in my grandfather’s lap and sniff the smell of cheap tobacco while he tells me stories about the Billy Goats Gruff. I don’t remember if his hair was blond or was it brown, like mine, or whether his eyes were blue, like Dad’s. I never met my grandfather. He died when my father was just a boy and I never got to meet him.

I don’t remember how awful it feels to flunk out of college. I was at the top of my class in high school. But I struggled through four years as an Engineering Major in college. When I figured out I couldn't hack it, I spent too much time drinking beer in smoky bars and not nearly enough time in the library. But somehow I managed to graduate and get my diploma. But I really didn’t want to be an Engineer, did I?

I don't remember what its like to wish to be a Mom. Because God blessed me with three beautiful children and I believe that they have been living in my heart since the day I was created. They are fiery and bold and funny and tender and wonderful. They fill my heart and make me feel complete. My wish, that was born years before I ever knew it existed, came true.

I don’t remember what its like to be old. To wonder how time slipped away so fast and wish you could snatch it back. To sit alone by a foggy window watching rain drops race down the panes and to wonder whether anyone still loves you. To flip through old photo albums recollecting times past and yearning to relive them. I don’t remember that because it hasn’t happened...yet.

I don’t remember when I was an angel……