“Any angels’ wings I ever saw were white,” said Nan.
“The flower angel’s aren’t. They are a pale misty blue, just like the haze in the valley. Oh, how I wish I could fly. It must be glorious.”
“One does fly in dreams sometimes,” said Di.
“I never dream that I’m flying exactly,” said Walter. “But I often dream that I just rise up from the ground and float over the fences and the trees. It’s delightful—and I always think, ‘This ISN’T a dream like it’s always been before. THIS is real’—and then I wake up after all, and it’s heart-breaking.”