Ten years had passed, and the memory of that day still lingered in my mind like a faint but persistent whisper. My son’s innocent words made me pause, a mixture of curiosity and anticipation gripping me. He looked at me with a serious expression, his eyes reflecting a depth beyond his years.
“Mom, that woman actually was an angel,” he said softly, almost awe-inspired. “I remember her hair was so bright, like it was made of sunlight. And she never left my side, even when I was scared.”
I stared at him, heart pounding. It was impossible—how could he remember so clearly what a stranger looked like from so long ago? And why would he call her an angel?
He continued, “She told me stories about the stars and promised me that everything would be okay. She held my hand until you found me. Maybe she was the reason I was safe that day.”
A shiver ran down my spine as I looked at my son, realizing that perhaps, some kindness and comfort come from sources beyond our understanding. That stranger’s warmth had been a gift — not just to me, but to my son’s innocent heart — and maybe, just maybe, she was more than just a kind stranger in a moment of need.