People wonder why I'm so positive all the time.
They wonder how I see the bright side of every situation, the silver lining in every cloud.
But most importantly, they want to know how a boy who's been missing his parents for more than half of his life can wake up every morning in anticipation of the day when they finally come strolling through the front door.
Well, it's simple, really.
It's because I believe in miracles.
I believe that my faith in the unimaginable will somehow find its way into the heavens. That there is a higher power out there that makes it their business to deal in the unlikely. The absurd. The impossible.
I know, it sounds crazy. Some nine year-old boy wishes for the impossible to become possible, and in doing so believes he can shape the flow of the universe.
But I have proof.
Once, I've met an angel.
Perhaps it was just some girl. Some random girl that impersonated my French pen pal just so she could have dinner with me. Maybe, or…
Maybe she is THE ONE.
THE ONE who helped me find Mr. Hynnh's daughter on Christmas day.
THE ONE helped me rescue the neighborhood from Scheck.
THE ONE whose presence I feel time and time again whenever I'm about to give up hope.
Though I've only met her once, I'd like to think that mysterious girl I met on Valentine's Day is my guardian angel. And though I can't see her most of the time, I get the feeling she's always there for me, watching over me and protecting me.
Sometimes I think that she may even love me.
Pictures in a locket.
Poems in a book.
Sweet nothings from talking birds.
My first kiss from the most unlikely of girls.
The signs are brief. But I've seen them. And they give me hope.
Hope that my angel is right here, listening to my thoughts and prayers. Hope that one day she will whisper my prayers into the heavens so that one day some unnamed force will answer them.
And bring my parents back home.
So, maybe it is crazy to believe in miracles. But when you've experienced as many as I have face-to-face, it's almost as crazy not to.