Patty cake, patty cake.(Kevin Hughes) She was exhausted. At the end of the red topped picnic table sat her five year old daughter. She thought that her daughter would like a hot dog at Costco after her final Chemo Treatment. Instead she watched as her daughter, completely drained of any energy, sat with her head resting on her arm, as her other hand made little meaningless circles on the table top.

Both of them sat in a numb mixture of fate and melancholy that was slowly simmering any joy out of their lives. Too tired to care. Too tired to cry.

It took the frazzled Mother a few minutes to understand a young woman had joined them at their table. A pleasant looking young woman. One who had either just graduated from High School, or was just about to go away to College. She had that youthful sheen colored with potential and expectation that the young seem to have- and are unaware of. That young girl had energy and compassion spilling out from her every movement as she slid onto the metal bench across from the small girl.

“How are you today?”

The little girl used what was left of her strength to lift her head. She looked over at the smiling girl across from her. Her first thought was: 'I bet that’s what a big sister looks like.' She didn’t have a big sister of her own. She always wanted one. A little bit of life creeped into the little girls thoughts on the back end of the big sister thought.

“Not too good. I have cancer. I just finished eight weeks of Chemotherapy. I am tired.”

The pleasant looking older girl slid her hand over the back of the tired looking five year old’s hand. As soon as their hands met, a bit of some kind of order, or healing, flowed into the little girl’s body. As they talked about Hospitals, Doctors, and being sick, the flow continued. Color returned to the small girl’s complexion. Her eyes started to twinkle and wink with the curiosity that is natural to all five year olds.

The Mother took note. Hope, a feeling she thought had died with the diagnosis, was trying to force its way into her consciousness. Her child was becoming animated, interested, and talking with the pleasant looking girl like they were Sisters. Her eyes welled up water as she silently watched the two continue to talk. The first tear fell with the first giggle from her five year old daughter. The first giggle she had heard in weeks. It made her smile.

Even the little five year old girl noticed it. At five, there is no filter. None. So she said what she thought.

“I feel better. I feel like your hand is pouring warm into my hand. Better than warm. What are you doing?”

The pleasant looking girl who could not be much older than eighteen or so, smiled more broadly.

“You are very observant, young one. I will tell you, if you can keep a secret.“

“I can keep a secret.” She crossed her heart and mimed zipping her lips closed.

The pleasant looking girl laughed, not at her, but with her.

The little girl laughed too.

“Okay (leaning in a little so only the girl could hear her). I am an Angel. I am hear to give you your health back.”

The five year old girls eyes widened. Real wide. The questions poured out.

“An angel? A real angel? (A nod was her answer) You can heal me? How? Will it hurt, or burn, like the medicines they give me at the Clinic?”

The pleasant looking young girl smiled at the flurry of questions. She understood the pain and hope behind them. She answered them all. And not just the questions asked out loud.

“It will not hurt…or burn. It isn’t scary at all. (The five year olds face lost some of its fear) I will play patty cake with you. Every time our hands touch, you will feel a bit better. Nobody will notice how you are getting stronger and healthier. Will you play patty cake with me?”

The little girl’s face fell.

“I don’t know how to play patty cake. I don’t have any friends.”

The pleasant looking girl took both of the tiny five year olds hand in hers.

“I will teach you. And then you can teach your Mother to play patty cake too."

The young mother was in awe. This pleasant looking girl sitting across from her daughter had somehow, miraculously, drawn her daughter out of her shell. She was sitting too far away to hear their whispered conversation. She had noticed that her daughter was feeling better, talking, and even laughing. Her breath caught in her throat as the two of them started to play “patty cake.” She wouldn’t interrupt this…this…therapy, for all the money in the world.

There was much giggling, laughing, and glee as the first few round of “patty cake” missed more than a few crossing pats of hands. The song had to start over again many times.

“Patty cake, Patty cake. Baker’s Man. Bake me a cake just as fast as you can.

Pat it and roll it and put it in a pan

Mark it with a B

Put it in the oven for Baby and me.“


Soon both the pleasant looking girl’s hands and those of the five year old girl were flying towards each other almost too fast to follow. A look of furious concentration on the five year old girl’s face, and an equally sincere concentration on the pleasant looking older girl’s face. They both laughed as they made it through several stanzas of one of the English World’s oldest children’s songs, and the hand clapping game it acted as a metronome for.

The young Mother had stopped crying. She was mesmerized now. Enthralled was a better word. She was watching her child be…well…a child. A normal five year old, just playing patty cake with a pleasant looking young girl. A girl playing the role of a Big Sister…and playing it flawlessly. The smile on the young Mother’s heart was as wide as the one growing in her heart.

Another young Mother was startled when her five year old daughter let go of her hand to rush over to one of the picnic tables. There was a big girl and a little girl playing patty cake at that table. She saw her daughter rush up and blurt out:

“Hi! My name is Tyrisha. I am five years old. Can I play with you?”

“Of course.” Said the pleasant looking young woman.

“Oh, I would love that. My name is Heather! And I am five years old too!”

Giggles followed as now six hands flew in a complicated swirl of soft taps, crossovers, and slaps as gentle as butterfly kisses rebounded off of the palms of all three girls. As gently as she could, the older pleasant looking girl eased out of the game. Leaving the two five year olds to play with both growing confidence and a budding friendship. She slipped away, almost unnoticed. The young Mother noticed, and whispered a prayer of thanks towards the young pleasant looking girl as she walked away without saying goodbye.

Tyrisha’s Mother sat at the end of the table and introduced herself as the two little girls played and played. Soon, the two young Mother’s were in a deep conversation. One that would build words into a friendship that would last a lifetime. During that bonding conversation Tyrisha’s Mother asked a simple question.

“Who was that young lady who was playing with your daughter? Is she her big sister?”

Heather’s Mother shook her head. A bemused smile on her face.

“I never saw her before in my life. She just came over and sat down with my daughter. Next thing I know…they are playing Patty Cake. I think…I think…she as an Angel.”

The two women clasped hands. It was a form of prayer. A thank you for Angels of all kinds.

Out in the parking lot, a young pleasant looking girl, either just graduating from High School, or getting ready for college. Heard the prayer.

She smiled as she sung: “patty cake patty cake, Bakers Man…”

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