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About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write.
Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground.
 
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A Cup Full of Humble Fragrance #755316 added June 20, 2012 at 2:32pm
Restrictions: None
Real Winner (June 20 - Winner)
Bobby Lewis was my first assignment after I received my wings. My mentor Gabriel said, “We don’t assign newbie angels to speed-car racers, but Angel Alexis, your credentials and test results are enough proof to your mettle. Let’s now visit your ward.”
A speed car racer? What did I know about racing cars? Nada, zilch, nil, zero. Besides this was my first assignment. Why didn’t I get a nice little female child with a growing-up problem? But this assignment was an honor, and I wouldn’t dare argue with an archangel.
I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Drop the sir. I’m Gabe to you, and I’ll call you Alex.”
“Yes, sir.” Oops! Luckily, Gabe just laughed. “No need to worry. You don’t need the lingo or the info. You’ll have access to Bobby’s feelings. That’s all you need.”
Easy to say for Gabe!
He continued. “You’ll support Bobby. Very gently. Humans have to make their own choices. Very rarely do we interfere. Remember Alex, this is Bobby’s last race.”
“Last race?”
“Oh, he’s going to live. His life plan is different.”
Bobby was visiting Chet Robinson Jr., his friend, at the Holiday Inn across from the tracks. Chet Sr. was a racing icon but not much of a father, and Chet Jr.’s greatest need was his father’s approval, Gabe said.
We hovered over the two, listening.
“Dad says, if I don’t win this one, not to face him again,” Chet Jr. said. “He says he’ll cut me off for good. It isn’t that I didn’t win before, but only in the qualifying rounds. Never in the biggies. Dad says he’s had it with my incompetence; he’s had it with people insinuating that the fruit fell far from the tree.”
“Just do your own thing, Chet. Who cares what people say? But I bet you’ll win. You’ll get the trophy. Believe in yourself, man.”
I looked at Gabe. “Will these two race each other?”
“Not according to the present schedule, but they will. Bobby’s team will make him replace someone else.”
And it happened just as Gabe said, with Bobby replacing another racer who came down with the flu.
Before the race, I watched Bobby and Chet in the racer’s lounge.
“I hate you, Bobby,” Chet said. “Dad thinks you’re better than me.”
“Get outa here, Chet! No one’s better than anyone. All depends on the engines, the track, whatever. Gosh!”
Empathy! That’s what I felt Bobby was feeling. If they weren’t two males and the culture permitted it, he would go embrace Chet and rock him in his arms. Nice!
The race began. I hovered over Bobby’s car. At the beginning, Trevor Hunter’s car was ahead with Marco Ryan at his tail. Trevor hit the wall and the car went up in flames. I felt Bobby’s desire to rescue the driver, but he was driving inside and crossing over was out of the question. Trevor was okay, but Bobby didn’t know it, and he kept feeling bad. I whispered to his ear, “Trevor's fine. He’s getting rescued by the crews.”
Bobby looked at his mirror and took an easy breath. At that instant, Marco’s car malfunctioned and skidded in front of Bobby’s. “Watch out!” I warned. Bobby weaved around Marco and raced ahead.
Now, Bobby was in the lead, and I was cheering him on. At that moment, I wanted him to win probably more than he did. We had just entered the last lap when I heard his thoughts. Chet’s in the back of me. He has to get out of his runner-up slump.
“Bobby, do the right thing!” I whispered, not quite knowing what the right thing could be.
Bobby revved the engine yards before the next turn. His car skid into the green, letting other racers pass him by.
At the end, Bobby applauded when Chet held up his trophy and faced the cheering crowds.
But from our side, Bobby was the real winner, and I was really proud of him.
Bobby decided to go back to school and become a scientist so he could help people. What kind of a scientist? Just wait and see.
What happened with the Robinsons? Well, that’s another angel's story.
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prompt: winner
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