PublicBookshelf Book Club
Michael E Johnson
Weekly tips on great novels to read.
"In Heaven there is no pain and there is no death..." MM Two years had passed since Dawsonville or any contact with MM. We were celebrating Mitch's twelfth birthday. Mitch had grown and changed; he seemed much more mature. He had developed into a confident and intelligent young man. I no longer made fun of him, and we both developed a lot of mutual respect for one another. The vivid accounts of all that occurred in Dawsonville were clearly etched in our minds forever and, to this day, always seem like it occurred just yesterday.
We started to believe that we would never hear from MM again, but it didn't matter. We felt we knew the secrets of life and we kept our individual Angels close to us. We even named our Angels. For me, my Angel was Michael (I had an imaginary friend named Mike when I was younger), for Mitch, his Angel was Joe (after me, which made me very proud). For Amy, her Angel was Sally. This kind of surprised me; her mom's name is Sally. In private we would talk to our Angels like they were real people. Of course, we never saw them, but it was fun and I had to admit it was somewhat comforting.
At Mitch's party we were outside in the yard under the big willow tree. We had put a table under there, and it made for a great fort-like retreat. I asked Amy, "Don't you think that it's time we tell others they have an Angel?"