While packing her bag in the morning, she remembered that it was Wednesday and there would be some free time between classes to unwind. The novel she was reading was the perfect choice to take along with a cup of coffee at the school yard bench.
12.35. She rang the bell for everyone to go inside after recess and went upstairs to get her book and make some coffee. Just then, she remembered she had promised a colleague to look after his sixth graders while he took care of an unexpected emergency. 'They are good kids', she thought. 'I'll let them play outside, while I read'. Out in the yard again, she looked at the bright sky and thought it was the best possible weather; sunny but not too hot because of the breeze. The boys had already started playing hide-and-seek but the girls seemed quite indecisive as to what to do. They were all lying on the grass, looking at her. 'What are you reading?', one of them asked her. 'The Violets of March, a novel', she replied. 'Will you read to us?' After pondering over it for a moment, she recalled a little extract she had underlined the night before. 'Sure, why not. Just grab me a chair; the grass is a bit too humid for me'. They all got comfortable, using each others' legs as cushions, some closed their eyes, some looked straight at her, waiting for her to start reading.
"Hello, girls!" she said, walking toward the kitchen. In her hands were a bottle of wine and a bouquet of purple lilacs wrapped in brown paper and tied loosely with a strand of twine.
"They're lovely," Bee said, smiling. "Now, where on earth did you find these this early in the season?"
"In my garden," she said as though Bee had just asked her what color the sky was. "My lilac tree always blooms before yours." She said it with an air of amicable competitiveness that only a sixty-plus-year friendship could bear.
"In my garden," she said as though Bee had just asked her what color the sky was. "My lilac tree always blooms before yours." She said it with an air of amicable competitiveness that only a sixty-plus-year friendship could bear.
After the necessary translation, there were a couple of comments about the two characters' friendship. The girls were amazed at it and two of them looked at each other with warm smiles on their faces. They probably had the same thought of them being still friends in their eighties. 'Go on. Read us some more. What happened next?' the girls asked their teacher. And she went on, reading about a secret diary, or novel. They were mesmerised. When it was time for their next class, they asked her if she could tell them what would happen next, once she'd read the rest of the story. 'I will most definitely do', she promised.
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~ extract (the middle part of the post) from The Violets Of March
~note to self: always have a camera with you! You never know when you'll want to capture a moment!
