A quote: “Summer afternoon, summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.” ~~ Henry James
I’ll start with a story …
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Doesn’t she look happy?
Last couple of weeks had been bad. As summer was ending, I started talking about back-to-school, waiting for her usual excitement about getting a new backpack, notebooks and brand-new set of colored pencils and markers.
But she looked slightly – be honest now – terrified.
At first, I chalked it up to jitters about 6th grade and the last year before the leap into middle school. But after watching her slip through the house like a ghost, I finally stopped her, “For heaven’s sake, Cassie, what’s going on?”
Her dad came up behind me as she hunched her shoulders, looking from side to side.
“Oh, mom. I SAW! I really SAW!”
I could feel my husband place his hands on my shoulders to steady me.
Then she flung herself into my arms, sobbing. “Why me? Why me?”
This early? Oh my poor girl. The talent had been strong in her grandmother, not so much in me so I had hoped she would be spared.
The Sight placed a burden on your soul, mostly because Seeings were rarely happy. Sometimes the mere act of sharing changed things and the See never happened. That alone could drive you crazy.
Grandma had been accurate enough she worked for the government. Even after she had been institutionalized, they still came to her.
Me? I got a special phone. And after the terrifying “First day of school” event little Cassie Saw, I pulled it out for the first time in five years. It was answered on the first ring.
“No, not me,” I said and relayed Cassie’s Sight.
No mocking tone, no snorts of disbelief. Just a polite acknowledgement.
And a pointed “we’re making arrangements, be ready tonight.”
And here we are, in green woods and Cassie spending days being a kid again with no second thoughts.
Doesn’t she look happy? I hope to make it last.
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Now, it’s your turn.
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. featured image, modified, Adobe Stock standard license
The calendar we brought from Earth says it should be somewhere in the middle of January. It’s hard to say exactly when, mostly because the Kitties’ stardrive gets around Relativity by slipping along the edges of paratime. But we’re somewhere in that long stretch of spring semester until Valentine’s Day that made my Midwestern childhood self nod in understanding with C.S. Lewis’s line about it being always winter but never Christmas.
Here the weather is warm, with those long afternoons that bring back memories of those last lazy days before school started. According to what we’ve been told, this world has a longer year than we’re used to, so human holidays will never quite stay aligned with any particular season. It’s not just like Australians celebrating Christmas in the middle of Southern Hemisphere summer — Christmas and Easter and the Jewish holidays will wander through the seasons, only returning to their “proper” season about every three or four years.
That may be worrying the adults, but right now the kids are having a great time outside, playing in the stream that feeds the pond. It’s sure a darned sight better than spending day after day snowed in, staring at the sun glittering on all that snow, but unable to go out and play in it because of the dangerous cold.
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