The Once-ler
It had been two weeks and Once-ler had been experiencing nightly visits from the woman who called herself an Angel. He had started preschool a week ago, and he was tasked with drawing his family. He sat at the short, little tables in the tiny, small-child sized chairs "drawing" away. First, his mother. Then, his Uncle Ubb, then Auntie Grizelda, then his brothers, Brett and Chet. Finally, after asking for a couple more black and red crayons from his table-mates, he added the "angel", though he spelt angle and the "N" was backwards. His teacher, Miss Fink, walks by and spots the black and red mass in his picture.
"Once-ler, who is that in your family?"
"That's the Angel who visits me every night. I love her, so she's my family." he says, confidently. She smiles, a fake kind of smile people use on children.
"Once-ler, your picture is so pretty, can I take it and keep it?" Seeing nothing wrong with the request, the boy relents and allows Miss Fink to take his drawing. "Thank you. Go get yourself a carton of milk, Once-ler. It's almost story time." She says to him, careful to no alarm the boy-she was going to have a talk with his mother after class.
She excuses herself and uses the main office's phone to dial out and call Once-ler's mother.
"Excuse me, Ms. Struthers? Yes, this is Once-ler's teacher, Miss Fink. No-he's not in trouble, I just need to talk to you. Can you come in after school and have a chat with me?" She goes back in and reads to the children and they take their naps.
At the end of the day, Isabella makes her way to the preschool. Miss Fink sends Once-ler out to play, and the boy makes his way to the swings.
"Ms. Struthers, your son drew something in class today. The assignment was to draw your family, and he drew this:" she takes the drawing out and passes it to Isabella. She pouts as she sees "ANGLE" on the drawing next to a figure in black standing next to Once-ler. It looked as if the boy tried to draw her with her arm around him.
"Not the angel again. If I told Oncie once, I've told him a million times!"
"Ms. Struthers, I don't think it's that big of a deal. I think, perhaps, he's not adjusting well to the death of his father and made up this angel to ease his suffering. Angels come from Heaven, and that's where the boy believes his father to be-it's only natural that a child his age with such a big imagination would invent something like this to ease his grieving."
"I'm still having a talk with him when we get home." Isabella says.
"I think this angel is just an imaginary friend-"
"That's what he told me the first time I asked, but he's drawing her into family pictures, now. Is he crazy?"
"No, I don't think so, only grieving in his unique way." Miss Fink says.