With Her silky honey-blonde hair, gracefully wavy ,ending in curls, Her sky-blue eyes, Her sweet little rosy, smiling face, with the wind caught in the slightly inflated sleeves of Her linen dress, She has the appearance of a little angel with wings half open and ready to fly.
In Her hand, She carries a bouquet of wildflowers; poppies, cornflowers and others from the cornfield, and as she draws nearer to Her mother, She breaks into a run, shouting joyfully like a little dove and ends Her flight at Her mother’s knees, who opens them to receive Her. Anne sets aside her needlework and opens her arms to embrace Her.
‘Mummy, mummy’ says the little dove, standing in the short grass with Her face buried in Her mother’s lap so that only Her golden hair can be seen on the nape of Her neck, over which Anne bends fondly to kiss. Then Mary lifts Her head and offers the flowers to Her mummy and for each flower, She tells a story She has made up:
-This blue and big one-, she says -is a star which has come down from heaven to bring the kiss of the Lord to my mummy. Here: kiss this little celestial flower there, on its heart, and you will see that it tastes of God-
-This other one, which is a paler blue like daddy’s eyes, has written on its leaves that the Lord loves daddy very much because he is good-
-And this tiny little one, the only one to be found,, is the one that God made to tell Mary that He loves Her-
-And these red ones, does mummy know what they are? They are pieces of King David’s dress, stained with the blood of the enemies of Israel and sown on the battlefields and the fields of Victory. They come from those strips of the heroic regal dress torn in the struggle for the Lord-
-This white and gentle one that has seven silk cups looking up to the sky, full of perfumes, was growing over there, near the spring. Daddy picked it for Me amongst the thorns- is made with the dress of Solomon. He wore it, in the same month his little granddaughter was born, when he walked in the midst of Israel before the Ark and the Tabernacle, in the splendid majesty of his robes. And he rejoiced… and he sang the canticle and the prayer of his joy-
‘I want to be always like this flower. And like the wise king, I want to sing throughout my life canticles and prayers before the Tabernacle.’
‘How do you know these holy things, my darling? ‘Who told You? Your father?’
‘No. I do not know who it is. I think I have always known them. Perhaps there is one who tells Me and I do not see him. Perhaps one of the angels that God sends to speak to good people. Mummy, will you tell me another story?’
‘Oh, my dear! Which story do You wish to know?’
Mary weighs the question deeply, Her thoughts reflected in the smiles, sighs, clouds and sunshine that cross her face. ‘Once again the story of Gabriel and Daniel, where Christ is promised’ she says at last. Then she listens, eyes closed, to the words Her mother says, repeating them in a low voice as if the better to remember them. When Anne comes to the end, Mary asks ‘How long will it be before we have the Immanuel?’
‘About thirty years my darling’
‘Such a long time!’ says Mary, with longing…
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