Blonde Angel
Sunday, July 6th, 2008It was a cloudy afternoon. But not yet raining. Liv didn’t want to go to bed. She still wanted to run around in the living room. I was planning to go to postbus to post some letters. initially I would go there myself, but then I had an idea to take Liv along so she could have some walk and hopefully she would get tired and then go to bed without prostest.
She seemed to like the idea. So i put her ‘tuigje’ on and Kris put her shoes on. Then off we go!!. She enjoyed it. She screamed out of excitement as soon as we hit the pavement. The noises made some neigbours checking and smiled when they saw a very excited little girl passed by.
It was not that far, the postbus, only 400 meters away from our house. But before we reached it, just a tiny 50 meters before.. suddenly, without warning, rain came down. Oh no, it wasn’t just drips, but it was like big shower from the sky. With Liv in my handI ran as fast as I could to the postbus while scanning the area looking for a shelter. But sadly, no trees big enough and no bus stop, no shelter. Liv enjoyed the rain. She laughed all the way through the pouring rain.
So, the letters are posted, and now what? I scanned the area again, and saw some houses have carports with roof. I decided that was the best choice I had so far, I wished the owner of the house wouldn’t mind. Looking at my little girl, who was already soak wet, my heart sank. I took my jeans jacket off to cover her head, beneath the jacket I had a thin spaghetti traps shirt. What the heck, I probably only got flu. But just before I took my jacket off, a small car stopped next to us (while a second before nobody passed the street). A blonde girl waved her hand and made sign to get into her car. Without a doubt, I stepped into her car. There were 2 other people. An old lady in the backseat and an old man in the front.
I told the girl my address, and tried to make conversation with the lady. But she only nodded, so did the old man. Then the girl told me that her parents don’t talk dutch. I noticed that she had a foreign accent, sounded like eastern eurpoean, maybe from Polland. Half minute later, in front of our front garden, I thanked her and her parents for the help, the kind heartedness. She smiled and nodded politely, so did her parents. A genuine helpful hand is so rare this day. And toninght she is our angel, our blonde angel. And I will remember this for the rest of my life.
