Angel

When I was 3 my family moved to Canada. We moved into the cheapest apartment we could find. I remember the elevators smelling like strange cooking. I remember the balcony I couldn’t go on because it was covered in pigeon droppings. I remember the wood floors turning yellow. I remember the white car we borrowed that wasn’t white anymore.

My parents started fighting. I missed my uncles taking me to the park catching dragonflies and popsicles melting in the Korean summer. I missed everyone knowing my name. I missed my grandparents telling me how smart and special I am. I missed making crafts with my mom who was perfectly happy all the time.

My mom told me I was responsible for my little brother now. She was angry when she told me, I remember. She married the wrong person I guess. Everyone was sad. Everyone started fighting since then and they never really stopped. Someone was always disappointed in someone else.

My mom said my Korean name would be hard for Canadians to pronounce and I needed a new name. I said I wanted to be Cinderella. She smiled and said how about ‘Angela’? I said ok because it sounded similar. She told me I was her angel.

What do angels do? Do they make it all better? Do they save people? I tried for a long time. I couldn’t save my parents from each other. I couldn’t save my brother from himself.

I am much bigger now. A boy asked me to save him. He said I was his angel.

I said no, I am not my name. A name is what other people call me, but that is not what I call myself when I want her to come closer.