"I Think He Was An Angel..."

My daughter has been working with two other classmates for the last month writing, acting in, and finally editing together a 12 minute piece for her mass communications class. It's been fraught with disaster after disaster -- too many to name. Undeterred, the girl has pushed on giving it her best. Over the weekend she completed her section. It is really funny -- she makes a great Harry Potter, - "My life sucks..." is the running theme of the piece. The girl is amazing on the I-Mac. It has a great editing program. The special effects astounds me, along with the talent the girl uses in applying them. She has convinced me upon graduation she must have an I-Mac for her field, and I'm hoping if I get her one she shows me how to edit on it.



Anyway, as usually happens when a group has to work together there's always one that leads and one that slacks. The grade given knows not who is who so if one pulls the team down the rest of them suffer. After all the hard work the girl has put into the piece there was no way she was going to let that happen. Although it was due yesterday, one of the group did not come in to school. Her piece was incomplete and she didn't care. My daughter did. Rather than have just a "crappy boring" middle piece sandwiched between the two effect-laden exciting ones my daughter took matters into her own hands. With the approval of her teacher she decided she would take the I-Mac home and complete the other girl's piece.

Unlike her mother, my daughter has always been a team player. It didn't matter that she was not well herself, or that she wouldn't be able to attend an extra-credit movie after school that she really needed in AP History, or that she would be up way past midnight making things right. To her the worst part was lugging the I-Mac home. It's a full-sized computer with a 27" monitor. It is heavy. Her backpack is heavy. Last time we weighed it, it was 38 pounds. You've seen pics of the girl. She is petite and oh, yeah, she's got that little medical bone condition as well.

The bell rang yesterday and the class disappeared leaving her alone to carry her backpack, her laptop, and the boxed I-Mac. She struggled up the stairs and sighed as she rested before heading to the far end of the parking lot. To her right she heard a male voice asking her if he could be of help. She turned and saw a young man standing next to her. "Oh my God, yes!" He lifted the box and followed her to her car never uttering a word. She opened her trunk and he gently placed it inside. My daughter was babbling on how much she appreciated his help as she laid her backpack beside the computer. She looked up as she closed the trunk to ask the young man what his name was, but she never got the chance. He was gone. "Mom, I mean gone! Like disappeared! There was nowhere he could have gone. I was parked at the far end of the lot. There's no way he could have gotten back in the school in the one second it took to put my backpack in the trunk. I know everyone at Burton and I've never seen him before. It was really weird. I think he was an angel..."