LET GO

I can’t find him. What a disaster. I saw him right here — and now he’s gone.

I can’t fall asleep without him.

Behind the curtain, under the bed, in the wardrobe — I looked everywhere.

My loyal friend… We’ve been through so much together.

Once, you were so huge that I had to look up at you.

Then we grew to the same height.

And then I began to notice that you weren’t that big anymore.

I could recognize you by smell, even with my eyes closed.

Your worn-out fur is familiar to me down to the last thread.

I know you have a wound under your arm — the one I stitched myself with a crude needle and thick thread. It’s barely visible now.

We fell asleep on the couch together, played K-9, watched cartoons.

Filia, my favorite plush dog… there is no one more loyal, more precious.

Where are you? I won’t fall asleep until I find you.

The rumble of an approaching engine. A flash of a headlight. Silence. Darkness…

Oh! Perfect. He’ll help.

— Nevian, hi! I need your help. You’re an angel — you can do anything, you know everything. Please help me find Filia!

— Hello. Thank you for believing. It gives strength to me and to the entire Heavenly Host.

— A Host?! Do you have a real army? Who do you fight against?

— Hm. You really want to know?

— Of course! You’re always so focused, so confident… like a special-forces commander.

Nevian flinched, lifted his eyes — as if I had accidentally uncovered his secret.

— We don’t fight. We oppose…

— Oppose who?!!

— Those who rush and don’t finish listening to what they were told.

He looked at me seriously. I felt embarrassed.

— We oppose everything that makes people doubt. Everything that brings fear and numbness. Everything that twists the true meaning of kindness, beauty, love, and faith.

— And we’re always improving our skills, updating our knowledge, gathering new information.

— Just like elite warriors.

— Maybe. It feels strangely familiar. And yes — we train.

— Why? Why do you need muscles? You’re not human.

A calm, stern glance — not of an angel, but of a seasoned marksman.

A second later… he burst into big, warm laughter.

All seriousness vanished.

— Muscles? Ha! Not exactly. We do what humans do to understand how your bodies and minds work. To know why you’re tired, irritated, joyful, scared, or tempted. To be there at the right moment — to advise… or to step aside.

— Step aside? From the one you guard? Can you even do that?

— We never leave completely. We step aside, respecting the soul’s choice. Sometimes the best help is to let a person do what he wants. To walk the whole path. To understand. To accept. To return.

— Even if he’s doing something bad?

— Yes. We honor the choice. But it’s hard — to watch pain and wait. To hold a silence stretched like a tight rope.

— But why not just stop him? Take his hand? Keep him from doing harm?

— Because that would be force. And force always breeds resistance. Presence, love, and trust help a person see the truth.

He fell silent.

And I imagined angels standing behind human backs: grieving when one chooses wrong, rejoicing when one chooses good, thanking God.

— Now… what about Filia? When did you last see him? What did you feel?

I thought.

Nevian waited.

⸻

Saturday.

We’re getting ready for a picnic outside the city.

Mom and Dad pack food, dishes, a blanket.

Everything is neatly loaded into the car.

I get into the back seat and buckle myself and Filia with the seat belt.

A meadow, sunshine, laughter.

Parents’ friends join us; we play ball, run around, sing along to music.

Then the wind rises.

Clouds. Thunder. Lightning. A downpour.

Everyone grabs what they can.

I jump in the car… and we drive away.

— I remember! He’s there… on the meadow… left under the bush!

— Shall we go?

— At night? Is it allowed?

— No one will notice.

⸻

We sped along the forest road like night owls.

The headlight sliced through the darkness, catching trees and bushes.

There’s the meadow.

I run to the bush.

He…

— He’s here!

I hugged Filia, crying — with joy, and with bitter frustration.

My loyal childhood friend could never return now.

He was soaked like a sponge and filled with forest life.

— I… I can’t take him home… he’s ruined. Nevian… what do I do?

— Yes, you can’t. But look — he settled here perfectly. Forest creatures accepted him. Soon he will be part of their world.

— Did he die?

— No. He just crossed into another world. He’s no longer your toy. He’s forest-bound now.

And I understood.

Now I would have to live without him.

Photos — yes. Memories — yes.

But I would never stroke him or hold him again.

— Sometimes it’s time to part. When you can’t hold on — you must let go. A bird into the sky. A fish into a cool pond. A heavy burden. Or someone who can no longer stay with you.

— Give freedom. Maybe he’ll return, maybe not. But that’s no longer your choice.

We seated Filia under the bush, covered him with branches, and went home.

— Thank you, Nevian. You’re right… He’s better here. I’m sad, but I’ll remember the happiness he gave me. I let him go.

— I’m glad you understood. Here — take this.

He pulled a feather from his wing and handed it to me.

— Thank you. See you!

— We’ll meet again.

He dissolved into sparkles in the cold moonlight.

I was wet and muddy.

Changed, washed, put on clean pajamas.

Lay in bed.

I looked at the moon through the soft white feather — and fell into deep sleep.

There was a meadow, sun, and Filia — clumsy, joyful, chasing butterflies.

He noticed me, ran up, licked my hand, looked into my eyes and said:

— Thank you for letting me go.

And he rushed into the forest thicket.

Goodbye, friend. We won’t see each other again — but we will remember.

Yes… letting go can feel good.