the breeze was chilly, but i strode along, trying to recapture the serenity i needed. i had forgotten the child and was startled when she appeared.
"hello, mrs. p," she said. "do you want to play?"
"what did you have in mind?" i asked, with a twinge of annoyance.
"i don`t know, you say."
"how about charades?" i asked sarcastically.
the tinkling laughter burst forth again. "i don`t know what that is."
"then let`s just walk." looking at her, i noticed the delicate fairness
of her face. "where do you live?" i asked.
"over there." she pointed toward a row of summer cottages. strange, i thought, in winter.
"where do you go to school?"
"i don`t go to school. mommy says we`re on vacation." she chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach, but my mind was on other things. when i left for home, wendy said it had been a happy day.
feeling surprisingly better, i smiled at her and agreed. three weeks later, i rushed to my beach in a state of near panic. i was in no mood to even greet wendy. i thought i saw her mother on the porch and felt like demanding she keep her child at home.
"look, if you don`t mind," i said crossly when wendy caught up with me, "i`d rather be alone today."
she seems unusually pale and out of breath.
"why?" she asked.
i turned to her and shouted, "because my mother died!" and thought, my god, why was i saying this to a little child?
"oh," she said quietly, "then this is a bad day."