• I sat down hard. I just couldn’t believe the site in front of my eyes as I stared in horror at the screen. New York City was now a city of terror that everyone around the country felt. How could they….? This can’t be real….it just can’t be. I’m dreaming, I must be. I’ll wake up at any moment and everything will be fine. None of this horror will be real. I bit my lip as these frantic thoughts crossed my mind. Even as they did, I knew I was lying to myself. I wanted to cry, scream--anything to rid my mind and eyes of the horror unfolding. Instead I just sat there, staring, unmoving. Like a statue I’d become when it had first started. I just couldn’t tear myself from the screen to find peace. Then it was like the collapsing buildings were affecting my hotel suite. It took me a moment to realize that I was the one trembling, not the suite. I wrapped my arms around myself, as if that would stop the shaking, or even the fact that I was falling apart from the horror. I may have been trained to help in emergency situations like this but….I was falling to pieces at the thought of even going to New York City at this time. How could this have happened? Why? What did all those people do to deserve this? What did WE do to deserve watching them die like this? I pulled my knees up onto the couch with me, resting my head on them as I continued watching the morbid horror fest continue. I couldn’t stop.

    I have no idea how long I sat there, or long it lasted for that matter. All that mattered was that I continued my silent vigil, mourning for all those people and their families. The television stayed on through the night, just as I stayed ever alert also. As morning came, the sun peaking a sullen greeting to all the world, almost as testament to the horror from the previous day, I sat ever so still, my gritty eyes never once straying from the news that kept coming. I was still glued to my seat, as if there was some unseen force holding me there, but I just had to know if there were survivors, no matter how greats the odds against it. Soon I was forced to leave my seat, my body demanding to be taken care of, reminding that I was still human. When I returned I was greeted by the news that they had found evidence of living people. I couldn’t contain myself, I whooped with joy at such wonderful news. I was happy that people had survived, even with such odds stacked against them. I was sure I wasn’t the only joyful person in the hotel, seeing as how I heard many others echoing my whoop. It made me smile to hear my joy echoed by others.

    Though I knew many others had still died, I couldn’t contain the joy and happiness I felt. There were survivors! Oh happy day! I knew that I would be able to go and help if called, now that I knew it wasn’t all just carnage. Living people! Oh how blessed are they to have lived through such a traumatic event. My heart goes to them, and to all the families that lost loved ones. I smiled sadly at the last part of my thought. They will certainly be remembered. By all throughout this country. With this thought in my head, and a pray in my heart I slowly turned off the television. I needed sleep, but my body had too much joy from hearing about the survivors. So instead I grabbed my suite key and left. I wanted them all to know that there were people thinking of them out there, both the families of the deceased and the living. And they didn’t need to carry their burdens alone. I knew there were others out there who felt the same as I did, as I walked into the store.

    But still, I wanted to contribute some, no matter how small or insignificant it might seem. But it was all I could do at the moment and that made it seem all the more precious to me. I walked into the art and card isle, grabbing glue, paper, scissors, pens, crayons, markers, even cards. After I had gathered what I deemed to be enough supplies I walked up to the cashier to buy it all. He looked at me and asked, “What’s all this for Ma’am?” I smiled as I replied. “I’m making cards and artwork for the people and the families involved in the tragedy yesterday. I might even go to some of the schools and get the children to help me out, I have quite a bit of work to do.” I watched in surprise as tears welled up in his eyes after I said that. He silently rang up my items and totaled it out to more than a hundred. Before he let me pay he called his manager over and told him what I was purchasing everything for. The manager lightly pushed him aside and typed in a few digits, making the amount change to zero. I was stunned. He looked up at me and smiled.

    “What you’re doing miss, one can’t put a price of any kind on. Think of this as a donation to your cause. Have a wonderful day, and please come back before you send all those cards. We’ll most certainly have some to add in.” I nodded, speechless. Before I completely walked away I managed to find my voice long enough to thank them both. After I left I walked slowly and thoughtfully toward the nearest school. I certainly hadn’t expected that, but I was grateful for the fact they wanted to help out also. I looked up as I came to the school. I smiled as I went in to speak to the principal. It didn’t take long after they found out what I had come for, for them to take me into the gymnasium where they asked me to wait. I sat down as I watched them bring in class after class of students from varying ages. Most of them stared curiously at me as they walked past. Soon the gym was full and all were accounted for. The principal stood up, called for their attention that gestured to me. It was time for me to do what I had come to do. I slowly stood and walked to the microphone he held toward me. I smiled and accepted it before I turned to face the students. It was now or never.

    “Hello children. I’m Alyssa Worthington. The reason why you were all called here was because I wish you all to help me with something. Now this is something very special, and very dear to our hearts. I’m sure you all saw what happened in New York yesterday, and I wanted to enlist you all to be my army of letter and card writers. Who we are writing to are all those people and families that were involved in the tragedy yesterday. That includes not just the survivors or the families of the deceased, but also the firemen and police that are still helping, even those that are helping clear the rubble so they can get to anyone still trapped. Will you be my helpers in this important mission?” all the students cheered after I had finished speaking. I smiled, even though I knew this would be a long project, at least I wasn’t alone.

    A week later:

    I had finished packing all the letters, notes, drawings, and cards; even the ones from the store and sent them off. I smiled as I leaned back into the couch. It had been a very busy week, seeing as how everyone had sent me things to send. I was surprised when people dropped things off at the school for me, not just things to send, but cupcakes, cookies, things for me. It amazed me people were doing that for me. All I was doing was sending written support to strangers. It couldn’t be that remarkable, could it? Maybe, but now I could rest. I was exhausted from the whole week.

    3 weeks later:

    I was packing my things to head home; my wonderful vacation was over, when there was a knock at the door. I frowned, housekeeping wasn’t due until after I left. If not them than who? I walked to my door and opened it, only to find a couple of mail men lugging two bags each. They both grinned at me, each putting a bag down to shake my hand. I was surprised.

    “Miss Worthington?” I nodded. “It truly is an honor Ma’am. We’ve been wanting to meet you for weeks now, after we heard what you did for those people in New York. You truly are a blessing in disguise miss. We have letters of response for you. We’ll just leave them in here.” My eyes widened as I nodded.

    “Thank you.” They nodded as they left. I looked at the four bags they left, envelopes spilling out. I slowly reached down and picked one up. My hands trembled as I carefully opened it up. An angel pendant spilled out onto my lap as I pulled the letter out to read it. I looked at it for a moment then started reading the letter. Tears started forming and spilled down my cheeks as I continued reading. When I finished I picked up the pendant and smiled tearfully. What I thought was such a small thing had turned out to be such a big blessing for this woman. This poor woman, who’d lost her husband of only two years, had been left with a young child to care for and had been slowly spiraling down into depression, until one day she received a small package in the mall. Inside were many letters and drawings from people and children. Upon reading these her strength returned. She wanted to thank the person responsible and had been given my name as the person who had set this up. She called me an angel sent from the heavens to help ease the pain. And the package did just that.

    I put the letter down and called the desk. I explained that I had changed my mind and had decided to stay a few more nights. Then I switched flights to another day and went back to reading letters. Not all were letters though. Some were pictures of people, survivors, rescue workers, even of the deceased and their families, there were even drawings done by children, even small packages that included some personal items that they wanted me to have. I was touched. My crying hadn’t even slowed, instead it increased with each and every envelope or package that I opened. It was heartwarming.

    Next day:

    After I had managed to get through the four bags of mail, I grabbed some choice letters and drawings and went to the school. Once all the students were gathered together I held up the envelopes.

    “These are only a small few of the responses we received from all those letters and drawings that were sent out. I picked a few to read to all of you. I also included some of the drawings that we received in turn.” First I showed them the drawings, they loved them. Then I started the readings of the letters. When I was finished I looked up at all the students, wondering why they were so silent. In each and every eye in the room were tears. There were tears streaming down everyone’s face, no one bothered to hide it, or wipe them away. I myself was crying, it started when I began reading. Even the football jocks were crying, wearing the tears with pride just as everyone else was. When they all left, it was a silent line. They were released early, because no one wanted to ruin that special moment of the letter reading. I walked back to the hotel, still crying from the reading. I realized that I would never forget those faces, after I finished reading. Nor would I forget the content of the letters either. I looked down at my chest where the angel pendant shined bright in the sun. I smiled through the tears, happy to know that I was someone’s angel.