Joe:
“I still remember that day in Grade 7, at the square dance. You were the last girl coming down the stairs, and I was the last boy picked. When I bowed and asked, ‘Would you like to dance?’ What did you say?”
Nelly:
“I said, ‘Yes, please.’ Even though I was scared and my heart was heavy, your kindness was the light I needed.”
Joe:
“You looked so quiet, almost like you were carrying something more than just the teasing — ‘Smelly Nelly’ and all that.”
Nelly:
“I was. I was sick — not just in my body, but inside. After that day, I went to Our Lady of Fatima Church in East Van, near your house. I was searching for a miracle, for hope, for healing.”
Joe:
“Right there, close to home? I never knew.”
Nelly:
“Yes. It was a place where I could sit in silence, pray, and try to find strength. That church became a refuge for me when everything felt like it was falling apart.”
Joe:
“When I held your hand in that dance circle, did it help?”
Nelly:
“For a moment, yes. Your hand was real and warm. It reminded me I wasn’t alone. But miracles take time — sometimes they come through years of healing and songs like Legend.”
Joe:
“That’s why you wrote Legend — to capture that moment?”
Nelly:
“Exactly. To hold onto the hope I found, and to remind others that even in the darkest times, kindness can light the way.”
Joe:
“I want to see you again in Munich. Maybe ask Nena — the singer of ‘99 Red Balloons’ — to join you on stage. Her song reminds me how small things can change the world.”
Nelly:
“Joe, that sounds like the miracle we’ve both been waiting for — to face the past, sing together, and finally heal.”
