Angels on Earth magazine

The Friend I’ll Never forget

STEAM FILLED the bathroom when I stepped out of the shower. I was still a little sleepy as I ran a hand over the mirror to wipe away the fog. My reflection looked back at me: wet hair sticking up, damp cheeks. Then my gaze dropped to the marks on my chest.

My scars had faded after all these years and hardly noticeable—just two lines crossing in the middle of my chest. But the memory they brought back was as clear as ever: I had only really known the little girl for a few weeks. Didn’t remember her name. But I carried her with me every day.

We met in the Children’s Hospital of Columbus. I was 11, one of the few kids in the children’s ICU. I was born with a hole in

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