Angels have been coming to the forefront here on hubpages, lately. With Ripplemaker, and Dayzeebee publishing angel hubs, I thought I might throw in my two cents,as well. As they have both pointed out, we encounter angels daily. They touch our lives in many ways, and have the power to affect our mood, or change our entire outlook on life. While there are, in fact, many angels writing on hubpages, I would like to take this time to tell you about one that lives right here in my house.

I fell for her years before I even knew who she was. In the late 70's, I enjoyed roller skating, as did many pre-teens in those days. On a beautiful Saturday afternoon, I rode my bike (orange flag waving triumphantly above the sissy-bar, and banana seat) to the rink. I had no idea that I was to meet my destiny, that day.

After a couple hours of racing in circles to Queen, and Abba, and shooting the duck (remember that one?), I grew bored and went to the concession area for some of their famous french fries. Every Clint Eastwood-loving kid knows you never sit with your back to the door, and I was no different. There I sat, with my fries cleverly concealed beneath a pool of ketchup, watching people come and go. And suddenly she was there.

It was like a slow motion movie scene. As the door opened, the rush of air blew her hair back. The sunlight glinting off the glass reflected in her beautiful brown eyes. Surely an angel had arrived.

I was so taken, that I didn't realize that the french fry I had been holding had dropped into my lap, delivering a hefty payload of ketchup to my favorite beige corduroys (Remember, it was the 70's. Everyone was wearing cords). When I came to my senses, I was mortified by what looked like a gunshot wound on my left thigh. I unlaced, and beat a hasty path to the door before I could further embarrass myself. The girl of my dreams was gone forever. I rode home in shame, cursing my own stupidity the whole way.

I returned to the rink the following Saturday, and she was there. My heart nearly stopped. I wanted to talk to her, but the area that was normally occupied by my stomach, seemed to have been scooped out, and replaced with a ball of writhing snakes. So I did what any painfully shy adolescent boy would do. I skated around the rink a few times, then I bumped into her and knocked her down. Repeatedly. I know that was juvenile. But then, so was I. I definitely had her attention, though.

My own cleverness was my undoing. I knew I could never talk to her, now. I was the jerk that kept knocking her down. I did see her looking at me, occasionally. Probably just to keep tabs on my whereabouts, so as to avoid being knocked over. It was only a few weeks later that I gave up skating, and moved on to greener pastures.

So I leave this story, here. But I will be revisiting it, shortly.

As time passed, and I was entering high school, I often wondered what became of the roller-angel. It was my sophomore year when my true angel came to call. This time, I was prepared. Being an excellent trumpet player had earned me some notoriety within the confines of the band room. I was, in fact, the coolest nerd at my school. Along with notoriety, came a large dose of confidence. When the most beautiful girl I had ever seen graced the band room, I knew that she would be my wife. I don't know how I knew it, but I did.

I searched the depths of my being for something profoundly cool to say. All I came up with was a dopey grin, and a quick wiggle of my eyebrows. Ok, so I wasn't as cool as I thought I was, but it did the trick. She blushed, and giggled, and became my girlfriend in short order. We were joined permanently, at the hip.

We did break up once, but just couldn't stay apart. We were told that people who marry young, almost always divorce. Never the less, on August 1, 1987; at the age of 21, I married my 19 year old fiance Debbie, and we haven't looked back, since. To this day, the only regret is that brief separation.

It is here, that I must revisit the roller-angel. After close to ten years of marriage, Debbie told me about her first crush. It seems that there was a kid at her favorite roller rink, who always wore beige corduroys, and took great joy in knocking her on her behind on a regular basis. She thought he was devastatingly cute, but had never gotten to talk to him. You can imagine my shock! It took some time to convince her that I was the devastatingly cute jerk. I could barely believe it, myself.

Aside from her angelic face, and ability to endure my many imperfections and quirks for the last 21 years, Debbie has touched more lives than she will ever realize. Or admit to. The first lives she touched, other than my own, were those of our children. Our daughter arrived some 5 years after we were married, and our son was not far behind. My angel willingly left her career, and spent the next 10 years ensuring that our children were set on the right path. They were well adjusted, polite, reading and doing simple math at the age of three. Once they were well on their way to success, Debbie re-entered the workforce in what I believe to be one of the most underpaid, unrecognized fields there is. She became, and still is, a preschool teacher. She will never admit it, but she has brought joy to literally hundreds of lives. Children often cry when their parents drop them off at preschool, for the first time. But it has become the norm for these same kids to throw tantrums when it's time to leave Miss Debbie's room, and go home! These kids love her, and the parents are constantly amazed at how much they learn, before they can even walk.

When her hours were dropped to part-time status, Debbie found another part-time job. Ever the angel of mercy, she went into hospice care. Unable to bear the thought of so many people left to die alone, it became her mission to be the friend of everyone in her charge. As with childcare, she never viewed this as a job. It was another opportunity to help people. She brought joy to many people in their waning moments. Spending time with each and every one. Holding their hand, brushing their hair, reading their favorite books to them. And when their time came, she would be at the funeral, paying respect, and sharing memories with their families.

Unfortunately, that hospice facility changed ownership. With that, came a change of personnel. To this day, Debbie still talks about those residents (she never referred to them as patients) and how much she misses them. She still seeks employment and volunteer opportunities that would allow her to help people in need. Again, it's not a job. It's just doing something that needs to be done. It's not touching lives, and bringing joy. It's doing the right thing. It is, after all, the reason we are put here.

These are but a few of the traits that make her the angel in my home, and in the interest of brevity I'll stop here. If I don't, I'll be writing for hours. She makes it easy to do. In the spirit of the request made by Dayzeebee, I would ask this question: Do you have an angel in your life? Is there a hubber, a family member, someone at work who makes your world a little better? Why not write a hub about them? The words you write might just touch somebody else's life.

As always, thanks for reading.