A little girl sat on the cold, tile floors of her mother’s hospital room. The girl drew frantically with her pen. She colored the grass an ordinary green. Her figures in the drawing did not look professional, but beautiful in their own way. The unique picture was composed of stick figures of her mother and her, holding hands, as they watched the sunset from the top of a hill.
The dim light of a rainy day was the only light in the room. Raindrops covered the window like stardust. They sparkled and showed small, transparent views of the world outside.
Angela’s mother, Kendra, focused her eyes on the drawing, instead of her pain. “It’s beautiful, Angela.” Kendra, dressed in a pale blue hospital gown, smiled. “We’re going to see the sunset and the sunrise everyday.” Kendra grabbed the sheets of her hospital bed and crushed it in her hands. “Together. How does that sound?”
Angela went back to coloring with a bunch of different pens scattered around her. Purple.
“Angela? Why don’t you come up here and sit with Mommy, huh?” Kendra looked deeply worried. Her hands clenched the sheets of her white, sterile bed tighter.
The room smelled like every cleaning product in the world was used to keep germs away. Flowers sat on a vase and they were dying, but slowly. Cards that said, “Hope you feel better!” and balloons decorated the room. Kendra was reminded of her own mortality.
“Angie, I love you. You know that, right?” Kendra was a beautiful woman. Now, she was a skeletal figure. Her arms had no meat on them. Her green eyes popped out of her head and stared at Angela’s drawings. The drawings were all of her and Angela. Her green eyes formed a river that flowed down her cheeks. One tear dropped onto her bed, contaminating it with thoughts of pain.
Angela stopped drawing for a moment and threw the pen across the room.
“Angie!” Kendra shouted as she wiped away her tears, but the bed remained stained. “Why did you do that?”
Angela turned around and knew she was in trouble. “Sorry, Momma. It ran out of ink.”
“Come here, I’ll show you that there’s still ink inside.” Kendra patted the bedside, where Angela could sit. “Come here and sit by me.”
Angela snatched the pen from the ground. “Show me.” She sat down next to her mother.
“Get me some paper, first.” Kendra pointed to the paper on the ground.
Angela quickly grabbed the paper and brought it to her mother. Angela watched with excited eyes. Was her mother about to do magic?
Kendra wrote on the piece of paper, but no ink came out of the pen. She continued to write though. Carving out letters onto the sheet of white.
“Momma, there’s no ink!” Angela yelled out.
“There is ink, Angie. Get me another pen.” Kendra pointed to one of the pens closest to the bed.
Angela picked it up and handed it to her mother. Angela waited for the magic. She waited in silence.
Kendra began to scribble on to the page much like Angela was coloring the grass. She moved her hand up and down and created a bunch of zigzags with the pen filled with ink.
“It’s invisible ink.” Kendra smiled as she colored the message into reality. The carved white words stood out in the color.
The message: I LOVE YOU, ANGIE. NEVER FORGET THAT.
Angela sat there in silence and awe. Angela took the paper from her mother’s hands and read the message over and over again. “Invisible.”.
“One day, I’ll be invisible, too. I’ll be like that pen. Will you throw me away like this pen?” Kendra grabbed the pen with invisible ink. “Will you?”
“No, I’ll never throw you away, Momma.” Angela shook her head.
Kendra gave a small smile. “I’ll be always here with you, Angela. Though you can’t see me,” she pointed to the message, “I’m there, like this message.”
Angela shook her head in agreement. She snatched the pen from her mother’s hand and continued to draw pictures. But instead of using every color of the rainbow, Angela drew in invisible ink.
Kendra now watched in happiness that someday Angela might understand.
I watched the whole scene unfold before me, yet couldn’t believe it. Was this reality?