She is very, very beautiful.

I do not know if she is a she or a him but it doesn’t matter.

In the spirit world and in the angel world the him is a her and a her is a him.

For now it shall be a her but it might, one day, become a him.

I will call her Bluebella.

When I saw her, only for a flitting moment, I saw mainly her wings, her majestic wings.

Her wings of true royalty,………… of strength and of beauty, of unfeigned nobility, wings of pure and peaceful power, wings of deepest kindness and genuine friendship, beautiful, beautiful soft feathery wings.

The top of her wings were snowy white, then it turned into a light blue, which became a royal blue, and wandered down to lightness again and ended into a deep white, the kind of white like white snow that has fallen onto the ground and brings a very deep silence even though the cars are rumbling by and the children are running around.

That is the snow that speaks to us only in the deepest silence.

Her face I could not see… only half of her face… because it was the wings she wanted me to see.

But her hair I did see.

It was a chestnut brown, lovely waving hair that tumbled down in ringlets.

I did not see her eyes but I am sure they were blue too but they could have been green or brown or violet.

Then she was gone.

As sudden as she came… so suddenly she was gone but I know that she smiled, a small but whimsical and kind smile.