I'll just call her Tania, a girl-child born against the odds of ever being loved.

I don't have proof but I know people who do. Angels walk among us. I can talk about it now, but I still can't reveal her name, so I'll just call her Tania, a girl-child born against the odds and never dreaming she'd be on her own with no one to guide her and nothing to indicate she was loved, though she was, if not most of the time at least some of the time, enough of the time for her to grab a moment or two, slip them into her pocket and store them away like precious gems.

That's how she created happiness, moment to moment, one encouraging word and then another until she was nearly thirteen and living in an orphanage where she met Dee but because the older boy was tender and kind, she loved him enough to do him the favor of breaking up before she broke his heart. Still he lingered, tarried, and sought to be near just in case she needed him, which she never did until after he was gone.

It was probably a heart attack because he would never abandon her, but she never knew what happened for sure. She began to regret the fact that she barely even knew him at all and couldn't determine what made him stay through the years knowing she had missed too much love to manufacture enough for even herself. So for a while after turning eighteen, she wandered from town to town hoping she'd see his face across the bar counter or his strong assuring hands serving up drinks while she held out her glass for another round. But it never happened. He had simply vanished.

"Cheers! Cherish the day!" she said after thanking the man at the bar. "I should have had his baby and stayed connected because he was an angel here on earth. I only wish I had some proof that he had been here and somebody once loved me."

"If he was an angel, then he's here right beside you," the older gentleman said. "Why don't you go on home now and crawl into bed." By the time the man had paid for his drinks, Tania was gone.