Echoes

By Filip Wiltgren

When Raphael was born his mother took him to church. His father, not being inclined to such things, held the boy in his lap and read him the newspaper.

When Raphael was five, his mother took him to choir, and his father took him to play-school.

“Such voice,” said the priest.

“Such brilliance,” said the teacher.

“It is clear he has a calling,” said the priest.

“It is clear he has a gift,” said the teacher.

And Raphael’s mother and father smiled, and congratulated themselves, and basked in the radiance of their offspring.

When Raphael was ten he was a soloist in the diocese choir, where the old, soberly dressed matrons cried at the sound of his voice and kissed his mother on both cheeks.

“He is blessed by the Lord,” they told her, and Raphael’s mother nodded and smiled.

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