It’s during “O Holy Night” that the realization fully hits me. It’s not the big, dramatic moments that are changing Noah. It’s these small, everyday interactions. These tiny sparks of joy, connection, and peace.
Real change, I now realize, doesn’t always come from a big event. It’s a slow, subtle process built on a foundation of small moments and minor shifts.
As the caroling winds down, I watch Noah and Paige walk together toward the hot chocolate stand. They talk softly, their words indistinct, but their body language speaks volumes. Noah is relaxed and open in a way I’ve rarely seen him.
They find a quiet spot near one of the decorated trees, sipping their cocoa and continuing their conversation.
“You have a nice voice,” Paige says, her tone gently teasing. “You’ve been holding out on me, Bennett.”
Noah ducks his head, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “It’s nothing special,” he mumbles.
“I disagree,” Paige replies firmly. “It’s part of what makes you, you. And that’s pretty special in my book.”
I watch as Noah processes this compliment. It’s a small thing, just a few kind words, but I can almost see the impact it has on him.
I think about my role in all this and feel lost. I’m not over there. I’m not talking to Noah and encouraging him to take the next step in his journey. Paige is.
Who made her a guardian angel-in-training?
I grunt. Jealousy is not an emotion I want to grab hold of, and I quickly shoo it from my mind.
The night grows colder, and I notice Noah instinctively move closer to Paige, offering her warmth. She leans into him, their bodies fitting together as if they were made for each other. Neither acknowledges this shift explicitly, but I can see the contentment on both their faces.
Noah is changing, growing, and opening up to life’s possibilities. And it’s happening not through grand epiphanies or dramatic turning points but through these small, precious moments of connection and joy. My mind is whirling with this new understanding. My role as a guardian angel is different in practice than it was in theory. I always leaned towards the case studies with big moments, reveals, and epiphanies because they seemed better somehow.
I’m not sure how I fit into the picture here. If I can’t help Noah learn the things he needs to learn, what is my purpose? I need to get to work and find a way to be of service to him instead of sitting on the sidelines. He’s my assignment—not Paige’s. Which means it’s up to me to help him move along.
Ten
NOAH
Insistent knocking at my front door pulls me from a deep sleep. I blink groggily, my mind struggling to catch up with my suddenly alert body.
“Go away, Sam!” I yell and roll over.
Sunlight streams through the gaps in my curtains, painting stripes of warmth across my rumpled bedsheets. For a moment, I’m disoriented, the events of last night—the caroling, Paige’s hand in mine, and the hours I spent afterward with pencil in hand—seeming more like a dream than reality.
I glance at my bedside clock and groan. It’s barely 8 AM on a Saturday. I do not want to work out. If he doesn’t stop knocking soon, I’m going to disown him as my best friend.
I’d been up until the wee hours of the morning, my mind too full of Paige and inspiration to sleep. Instead, I’d pulled out my sketchbook and let my pencil fly across the pages, capturing moments from the past few weeks that had etched themselves into my memory.
There was Paige, her face lit up with excitement as she talked about the Christmas parade. Another sketch showed her bundled up for our night out, her cheeks rosy with cold and exertion. A third captured her in profile, bathed in the soft glow of Christmas lights during the caroling night. Each drawing clearly shows the impact Paige has made on my life in such a short time. Each line, each shadow, speaks of the warmth and joy she’d brought into my carefully ordered world.
The knocking becomes more enthusiastic. I sit up. Sam doesn’t knock like that. He pounds.
“Noah. Are you awake? Come on, sleepyhead, we’ve got an adventure to go on.”
Paige.
Panic surges through me as I realize my sketchbook is still open on the desk, the drawings of her clearly visible. I leap out of bed, hastily gathering the loose sheets and stuffing them into a drawer. The last thing I need is for Paige to see how much I think about her and now I’m wide awake and couldn’t go back to sleep if I tried.
“Coming,” I call out, my voice still rough with sleep. I stumble around, hastily pulling on jeans and a sweater, running a hand through my hair in a futile attempt to tame it.
When I open the door, I’m greeted by the sight of Paige, bundled up in a bright red coat, her cheeks flushed with cold and excitement. In her hands, she’s holding her vlogging camera, already powered on and pointed at me.
“Good morning, sunshine.” Paige chirps, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Say hello to my viewers. We’re about to embark on a Christmas adventure.”
I blink, momentarily stunned by the camera in my face. “Uh, hello,” I manage, offering an awkward wave. “What’s going on?”
