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His chestnut brown hair was left to flow loosely in soft curls, stopping at a point which ensured that it would brush against his shoulders with every movement he made. The sun that was shining overhead gave his olive-tinted skin a wonderful and lustrous blush on the cheekbones, and his hazel-coloured eyes, coated with thick black lashes smiled down at me. He held my little hand in his and I smiled at him. I took in my surroundings. It was a lovely morning; the sun was out and this was very uncharacteristic on this morning in the middle of January. It was warm outside and my plain t-shirt, jeans and sandals were enough to keep me comfortable. The piazza was bustling with activity and energy. There were various people walking about – some were young while others were old, there were people from every walk in life; people who held different occupations, people from different races, genders and age groups. Some people walked around in groups, others walked around as couples and others walked around alone. The cafes and restaurants all had tables sprawled out along the pavements and people sat around tables and talked and ate and drank. On the other side there was a most wonderful park. I tugged on my companion's sleeve and asked him if we could look around the park for a while. I hadn't been outside the hospital walls for months now and I longed to enjoy nature as much as I could now that they had let me out for a day.
There were lots of other children playing in the park. I recognised my friend, Alicia, from the hospital and went up to talk to her. I hadn't seen her in a while – they had told me she'd been sent home two weeks before. She seemed surprised to see me but also very happy and excited. She introduced me to her friends and I said hi to them but then rejoined my protective companion who never took his eyes off of me in fear that I might get lost in the midst of all of these people. We walked around the large pond and I pointed at the swans and the ducklings. He explained to me their nature and that they were meant to be perceived and not understood, like all other things in nature. I found my companion to be quite different from the other people I had met before in my life; he had a peculiar view of things – it was like he had his own way of perceiving everything; probably an artist, I guessed. He showed me the trees and pointed out the different fruits that grew in this park. It was amazing; there were so many different plants and also flowerbeds all around – I had never seen such a variety of vegetation before. I wasn't very old – only five years old back then and I had spent a good number of months in hospital undergoing therapy for my cancer.
"I want some ice cream," I said, "It's hot outside."
"Let's go get you some ice cream then," He replied, "I know a very good place." We walked out of the park through a small side-exit and just around the corner was a wonderful old-fashioned ice cream parlor, kept by an Italian man. I asked him to give me some chocolate ice cream mixed with vanilla and he gave it to me. He didn't even ask my friend to pay and I guessed they might have been friends from the way they smiled at each other. I ate my ice cream while we walked back to the park and after I had finished it, we went on the swings. He pushed me and then he sat down on the swing next to mine and we talked for a while.
He asked me how I liked it here and I said that I loved it.
"I wish you would stay with me after I got back to the hospital," I told him, "My daddy is gone to Heaven. He went when I was still a baby by an accident. My aunty tells me that my mother will soon be gone too – it's not illness or accidents that have hurt her though…it was all of the pressure…oh I made my mummy sad when I got sick and I felt so bad about it!" Tears sprang to my eyes at the remembrance of my aunt's words and her horrible accusations at me of making my mother ill with worry and how bad I was for doing it. Whenever my mother called she promised me that it was not my fault and that it was just the way things had turned out, but I knew my mother only told me this because she loved me. Every night I prayed that I would not be sick anymore so that my mother could stop worrying and could be healthy again, but nothing ever happened. I just became worse and worse and my mother got closer to her deathbed with every second that passed. That was as much as my aunt told me every time she came to visit me to bring Cousin Jane to see me. Jane was a nice girl, but her mother was awful to me. She hated me very much and she also said that my mother had made a horrible mistake in marrying my dad and having me; a sickly wretch of a child. Tears sprang to my eyes at these horrible thoughts and soon I felt his comforting hands on my shoulders.
I got off the swing and looked at him. He knelt down in front of me and wiped away the tears that fell.
"It is not your fault," he told me, "It isn't. Your mummy loves you very much. She's getting out of bed tonight and she's coming to see you here."
"Oh no!" I replied, "No! They'll want me back in by tonight and I won't get to see her!"
"No," he told me as he smiled, "You will see her again tonight. She will be back with you finally."
I looked at the setting sun.
"Soon?"
"Very soon," he told me, "There's somebody else I want you to meet."
I took his hand and we walked out of the park and down the long street with the coffee shops and restaurants. As we turned around the right corner, I perceived a man I had often seen in pictures.
"This must be a dream!" I told my companion.
He shook his head.
"Oh my! I want to thank you for giving me the best day of my life!" I squealed as I hugged him. I then perceived my mother running up the street to embrace me, and together we embraced the other man; my father.
My companion put his hand on my shoulder and I looked at him.
"I am glad you like it. Welcome home Lucy," he said.
"I love you!" I told him.
"I love you too," he replied, and with that my companion, who you might know by the name of Jesus, walked away.