The evening promised to be fun: a birthday party for my daughter with 7 of her closest friends at a swanky Italian restaurant in Bermuda, renowned for its great food, flirtatious waiters, and boisterous atmosphere. For 8 young girls, it was an occasion to dress up in their finest and dine ‘grown-up style’ without the pressure of a formal meal. I invited a good friend to help me chaperone our young charges. With no kids of her own, she was ‘Aunt Linda’ to many nieces and nephews and loved by all. Always ready for a good time, she said ‘yes’ without hesitation.
Earlier in the day I had dropped off table decorations and party favors so all would be set when we arrived. To make the night special (and relieve parents of the burden of driving their girls into downtown), we met at a dock across from the City of Hamilton and took the Warwick Ferry across the harbor.
Excited, the girls sat inside during the short ride, catching up and admiring each others’ garb. It was a short walk from the boat to the restaurant, and the excitement of our little group was high when we got to our destination. Stepping through the doors, the girls were no longer ordinary schoolgirls at a birthday party. Once greeted by the Maitre d’, they became mini celebrities, with all eyes in the packed establishment following their every move. Little ladies, they took to the spotlight with an ease and maturity that surprised me. Impeccable manners—from their “yes, please” and “thank-you” to “pardon me, what did you say?”—made them the darlings of the wait staff.
After a meal of pizzas, pastas, Shirley Temples and desserts (plus a rousing round of ‘happy birthday’ sung by 100 or so patrons), we set off on our stroll back to the ferry. By now a chill had set in, as it does in the winter, and I was looking forward to getting warm inside the cabin on the ride back. But the girls had a different idea. This time they wanted to ride on the top deck, out in the open. It was a clear, calm night, the boat moving through water lit like liquid silver by the moon overhead.
About halfway to our destination the girls, gathered at the rail, suddenly went quiet. For a moment not a sound was heard. Then, without prompting or warning, one of them broke out in a song and the others quickly joined in. With clear, pure, sweet voices, they sang a hymn learned at school. No pretence, no embarrassment, not a hint of self-consciousness. In unison, the simple song poured forth as if their hearts had been so full of joy it could no longer be contained. The crew of the boat stood listening in amazement. No one on board moved or spoke. It was an absolutely beautiful moment and it moved me to tears.
As we motored into the dock, we could see parents and passengers waiting on the wharf. The last note was sung as we pulled alongside and everyone, from the boat Captain to those waiting to alight, burst into applause. These 8 little ladies, none more than 8 years old, gave each other hugs and stepped off the boat into their parents’ waiting arms.
On a crisp, clear, cold winter night—no matter where in the world I might find myself—the memory of that boat ride will rush forth. It is a wonderful reminder most fitting during this holiday season…that Angels do exist. I was blessed to be in their presence that night.
