A Summer to RememberBY ESHNA SHARMA

“This is just not what I thought I would be doing THIS summer!”

Ann muttered, furiously copying out French verbs in her notebook. A cool breeze blew inthrough the windows, and the thin curtains in the room bellowed in, revealing momentarily thebreathtaking view that lay beyond. Ann thought of all the fun her friends would be having in thecity while she was supposed to get bored out of her mind at her grandparents’ farm. Annsnapped the book shut and looked out of the window. She thought nothing of the rolling greenpastures, the wild flowers that dotted the landscape and the creek that eddied along the farm,instead, she saw that there wasn’t another house for miles to be seen, and this observation onlyadded to the girl’s growing unhappiness and loneliness.

Suddenly Ann straightened up. She noticed a figure walking slowly from the gate towardsthe house. A visitor!!!

She scrambled down the stairs, her ebony hair flying behind her.

“Well, well, John, our farmhand has finally arrived. About time too!” said Ann’s grandmother,addressing her husband as she emerged from the kitchen. As the stranger stood on thethreshold of the house, Ann stared at her. She was a young girl, no more than fourteen orfifteen, about as old as Ann. Her boisterous orange-red curls were securely trappedbeneath a thin headscarf. Her eyes shone like emeralds specked with gold, her nose andcheeks were dotted with freckles and her skin was lightly bronzed due to the summer sun.

At the lunch table, her

cheek resting against

her palm, Ann sullenly

wrestled with the beans

on her plate. On the

other side of the table,

the ravenous stranger

had wolfed everything

down and was digging

into her third helping.

The table had been set

with the best of

Grandma’s dishes, but

Ann’s appetite was

poor.

Excusing herself, she ran upstairs to her bedroom, angry and irritable.From the afternoon through evening, Ann watched from her window asthe young girl laboured on the farm, her lithe body moving from oneplace to the other, carrying buckets and shovels, cleaning, and doing allsorts of things that Ann couldn’t imagine herself doing. To her, the verythought of it seemed preposterous enough!

That night, long after bedtime,

Ann felt the urge to eat some

of her Grandma’s pecan pie.

Tiptoeing downstairs to the

kitchen, she caught sight of a

faint light emanating from a

room that was seldom used.

Opening the door a few inches,

she saw the orange-haired girl

sitting on a tattered mattress,

studying intently. A burning

candle proved to be the only

source of light, but the girl

seemed determined to study.

Ann turned around to go back,

but the girl had already seen

her and called her inside.

“My name’s Maggie,” she said, holding out a hand for Ann andsmiling warmly.

“Ann,” came the stiff reply.

“Do you know French verbs?” Maggie asked, with childlikeinnocence.

When Ann replied in the affirmative, Maggie begged her to teachher too, and Ann, reluctant at first, taught Maggie all through thenight.

When finally the sky grew rosy in the east, Ann trudged sleepily backto her room, feeling surprisingly happy.

That day, Ann helped Maggie with the chores. Maggie taught Ann to milk the cows andfeed the horses, to dust the carpets and to wash the dishes, to scrub the kitchen floor till itshone. All through the day, the two girls giggled and laughed like old friends who had beenreunited. The evening twilight brought with it a new adventure, for Maggie took out thehorses and taught Ann to ride one.

The two girls were quite unlike. One was as fair as snow, the other with olive skin. One hada posh city accent; the other was village-born and bred. One’s delicate hands had neverseen a day’s work in its life, the other’s were rough from all the dishes she washed. One hadnever touched a mop, the other made a living out of using it. One couldn’t eat the food onher plate; the other wished she could get more on hers. One spent most of her time sulking,the other looked for more and more reasons to smile. They were as different as chalk andcheese, but at the same time, they were as alike as two peas in a pod.

They lived in two completely different worlds; when Ann would describe to Maggie her lifein the city, full of riches and glamour and extravagance she could only dream of, her green-gold eyes would grow wide in amazement. Ann, on the other hand, would never cease tobe amazed by the great, daring tales of adventure that Maggie spoke of; how she hadonce ridden from one village to another, alone on horseback, or how every fishing season,she would catch trout all by herself for her family to eat.

The summer came to an end, although sooner than Ann would have liked, and itwas finally time to pack her bags, for school was about to open. She had swum inthe river, run races across the field and even played in the wet mud. She hadfallen, too, but Maggie had always been there to help her back to her feet.

Ann’s skin was nicked and bruised and her skinwasn’t as snow-white as it had once been. Butshe felt better than she had ever felt before. Herbones were stronger, she had gained an inch ortwo, muscles rippled in her arms and legs from allthe work she had done. She was fitter, bothmentally and physically.

When it was time to leave, Ann hugged Maggietightly, promising to return the next year.

Ann returned to the city with hundreds of memories, and fondly andremembered the orange-haired girl who had made her a better human being

and had made her summer, the best one EVER!