A few awkward moments crept by and we realized we both had a bit in common. He seemed to be missing his entire bottom half and I, well, I seemed to be missing most of my clothes, not to mention half my hair, and if either one of us could have bent over we would have rolled on the floor laughing at our pitiful selves. It felt good laughing again, I mean really laughing, because it had been quite a long time since I had done any of that, or even felt like it for that matter.
I had missed having someone like me, I mean, someone who knew what it was like to be different, to talk to , so Albert and I had a nice long chat together. We spent the next few hours getting acquainted and he shared with me a few memories he had when he felt....different. Albert told me when he was a little boy, his head seemed to be bigger than most kids his age, and he was made fun of. He also told me that he had a hard time learning to talk and read because he had so many ideas and thoughts running around in his head. He laughs about it now, people thinking he was a bit slow at first. He even called it, "The Ignoramus First Assumption Theory," which I found to be as fabulous as his idea that imagination is more important than knowledge.
Albert asked me about my face and what happened to me. Tears welled up in my eyes and I just hung my head. Before I could speak he began whistling the most beautiful tune, and it made me realize just how much I had missed hearing music, especially lullabies. I think he knew I wasn't ready to talk about it yet and he just wanted to put my mind at ease for a while. I thanked him, thanked him for the talk, the laughs, and for the song he left with me. Later that night, after all was quite and the cicadas had given up the ghost for the night I remembered the lullaby my angel face sang to me just before saying her prayers. I remembered how it felt to be loved and sang to, and I missed her.