Writing Their Names in Jewels
Colleen helped decorate boxes for the Angelcan church. She used jewels to write people’s names on the lids. It was her job, and she didn’t get paid for it.
She had busied for herself a long. This other unpaid job with the church gave her a second usefulness. It also helped exorcise her.
Who knew the states of mind of the parishioners receiving her boxes? Surely they were lonely, frightened, and tired, since everyone was. She was giving peace to many, Colleen was.
The pastors bought cartfuls of jewels from the craft store. They weren’t real. Colleen had heard of paste jewelry. But that was past. These shiny pieces they brought her were surely plastic and beautiful. The plastic jewels were prismatic, fruit-hued, took light into their halls and let it ricochet.
On the table before her, always a pile of boxes. Bought in bulk online, shipped from far away. Each box was the size of a giant’s cupped hand. That’s where a human heart would go. The box was velvet-lined. A lovely space for the heart to rest and heal itself, or rest and end.
For giants, there were bigger boxes.
Colleen refused to sort her plastic jewels by color, shape or size. She kept them all jumbled in a pile beside her. What if Kate or Kenny didn’t want their name all red? No, monochrome was out of the question.
The different colors glinted powerful on the surface of the box. Choirs of angels aren’t all sopranos. Some big orange plastic jewels. Some altos. Some tiny green plastic jewels. Some baritones. It’s variety that makes humans and angels glad.