"What are you doing, Mama?" said Tessa, as the old lady rummaged through the pile of leaves.

"I'm looking for angels."

"Come back inside, Mama. You'll catch your death of cold."

"Don't fuss, Tessa. You know I don't like a fuss."

Tessa grinned to herself. Mama was the fussiest woman in the world. "Tessa," she would say, "even if it's not worth doing, it's still worth doing well."

"That doesn't make any sense." But Mama didn't much care about sense. She cared about what the neighbors would think. It was not like Mama to rifle through leaves looking for angels!

Tessa used to think that Mama should adopt a different style, but now she was not so sure. We become used to the way people are. Tessa used to know where she stood with Mama; things should have a place and people should have a purpose.

"Don't idle your life away, Tessa," she would say. "Get a goal. Make a list."

Mama's crazy lists! They were scattered all around the house - daily lists, monthly lists, financial lists, and lists of family celebrations. It seemed to Tessa that Mama was more interested in making lists than acting on them.

In her haphazard way Tessa seemed to get more things done, even if Mama thought she was the one who was organized. "See," she would say, consulting the crumpled bit of paper from behind the clock on the mantelpiece. "I'm going to start the spring cleaning."

"Yes, Mama," Tessa would answer. "But when, Mama? When?"

"One of these days," her mother would reply, oblivious to the fact that it was the middle of July. "I will get around to it one of these days"

Tessa thought that Mama was content. She admired her ability to see life's funny side and never imagined that she had two secret lists tucked away at the back of the family bible. One day Mama studied these lists. It had been nearly a decade since she had laboriously written them out. They were all about the changes she planned to make in her life.

One list was:

WHO I AM

manipulative
cowardly
*overweight
people user
stupid
self-centered
*lazy
inferiority complexed
situation accepter
optimist
barrel of laughs

The other list was:

WHO I WOULD LIKE TO BE

honest with others
courageous
slim
independent
intelligent
empathetic
energetic
self-accepting
problem solver
realist
mature and sensible

Mama sighed. She hadn't expected anything to change, not really. She was after all only a maker of lists not a doer of deeds, but when she had read in a magazine article that was never too late to improve your self-image, she had sat down and compiled these definitive lists. She remembered her game plan - she would mark all the completed items with stars. One star for the ones she was working on and three stars for the completed transformations.

And now, after ten years, only two items had been marked and they had only one star each. Mama wept as she ripped through the papers and drowned the offending pieces in the toilet. No more lists, she vowed.

Tessa noticed the change. "Why don't you make lists any more, Mama?" she said.

"I don't need to," Mama sighed. "I don't have any plans any more. Not at my age."

"Don't talk like that, Mama. There are lots of things you can do."

"There are? What for example?"

Tessa stuttered but she couldn't come up with anything.

In fact Mama was quite pleased with her new way of life. She had more time to relax, was free from list-induced guilt, and seemed to get more things done, even though her life lacked a certain focus. And then one afternoon she watched a TV show all about angels.

She was interested.

That's what I'll do, she thought, I'll find me some angels.

It proved difficult, mainly because, unable to get a magazine sales person off the phone, she had missed the second half of the program.

Mama did stick to her resolve not to write down any more lists, but she became confused as she searched for angels and often checked the same places over and over again.

At first she looked in buildings. Church was too obvious a place so she was not surprised she didn't find any angels there.

The medical clinic, the old-age pensioner's hall, and the grocery store were likewise devoid of any noticeable angelic presence. So she turned to the outdoors, peering up trees, rummaging through piles of leaves, and talking to the birds, without discovering any signs of divine presence.

Perhaps they disguise themselves as people, she thought, and ran down a mental list of the people she knew. Mama had never had many friends, some of them had passed on and those that were left tended to be cranky and peculiar. Tessa was a wonderful daughter but certainly no angel and as for Tessa's husband - well, words failed her.

On Mama's next birthday, Tessa came with a card, and flowers and some wine and the two of them sat by the fire and celebrated. Mama was not a drinker but something got into her that evening and she matched Tessa, drink for drink, and between them they finished the bottle.

And so it came about that Mama confided in Tessa. She told her about all the years of secret dreams that didn't come true. "I never completed anything," she said, "not once."

"Oh, Mama," said Tessa putting her arms around her. "I'm so sorry!"

"It's not your fault, Tessa."

Tessa put another log on the fire and they sat in silence for a little while, each lost in their own thoughts. "You still have those lists, don't you?"

Mama sighed. "Not any more, Tessa," she said. "I threw them away."

"Oh, Mama," said Tessa. "You threw them away! Why?"

Mama shrugged. "I don't know," she said. "It seemed like a good idea."

"Maybe you should make another list, Mama?"

"I don't think so. There's nothing to put on it, except perhaps the angels."

"The angels, Mama! What do you mean?"

She told Tessa about the TV program, and the telephone call and how hard it was to find angels in this world when you don't know where to look.

"I can't make lists any more," she said. "I've lost the knack for it."

"Have you tried, Mama?"

"Yes, I've tried. I tried this morning. It was to be a birthday present to myself - one last list," and she began to cry.

"Never mind, Mama," said Tessa giving her a hug. "We'll talk about it tomorrow. Things always seem better in the morning."

There was no morning for Mama. She died peacefully in the night. Tessa made the final two lists and they both had three stars.

THINGS TO DO

***look for the angels

THINGS DONE

***found the angels

Copyright © 2003 Brenda Ross
All rights reserved

About the Author

A favorite with Kudzu Monthly readers, Brenda Ross was born and raised in England. She has lived in West Africa and now lives in British Columbia, Canada. She worked as a community librarian for many years and has had her work published in both print and electronically. Her book on writing, "On the Other Hand" was published by White Mountain Publications, and her tale for eight-to-twelve-year-olds, "The Silver Arrow," is available at Wynter Blue Thunder.

Other work by Brenda can be found at her websites, Shaking the Kaleidoscope and Rosie and Me.

Image: "Late Afternoon," Childe Hassam, 1906