We are in the school yard, the kids are running around deliriously because their recess has been extended by ten minutes on account of the beautiful weather and it being the last day of the week. Red and green balls are whizzing by, hitting the backs, legs and arms of their intended victims while a few of the the sixth grade girls have joined and locked arms as though they will never let go, marching around displaying their close comraderie. A shrieking and screaming blur shoots by pursued closely by a darker and burlier snickering shape, a cat and mouse game enjoyed by both, even though the young girl does not sound as though she is having any fun at all.
A mauve-coloured jacket bundling up a tiny little thing of a girl enters my peripheral vision and I turn towards her with a smile. I stay focused, however, on the hyperactive missiles the students and faculty like to call balls because I know that my luck will not protect me when I am such an easy target. My tiny sixth grader gets closer and begins to talk to me about the bake sale that will be happening during the parent/teacher night later on. She is so excited and her little face is stretched into a huge grin that shows off her impressive blue and red braces catching and reflecting the afternoon sunshine. Her mousy brown hair flutters in the wind while her fur-rimmed hood keeps her neck warm; her muddy brown eyes are alight with joy and she prattles on and on about how she had to ask her mother and how there was a specific arrangement made between the two so that she could be picked up after her bake sale shift. She asks me how everyone will be divided up and I tell her that I honestly do not know because Madame Laporte will be organizing that. I tell her that she will probably be working with the others from our class... and I am interupted by a squeel of joy and the sight of her bouncing and jumping around in a minsicule circle.
She pumps her little fists in the air and continues to jump around. She then moves very quickly and fluidly so that all of a sudden her seemingly breakable arms are wrapped tightly around my middle - I do not even have the time to smile down at her and to place my own sturdier arms around her before she has let me go and she is off running around, playing with the others. I smile to myself as I cherish the warmth that such a small gesture can bring on such a brisk and fresh fall afternoon.
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