[This is the second note concerning temporal subjectivity in
children. The first can be
consulted here.]
Today we are drenched in a frigid drizzle; but the weather-front held off long
enough that Hallowe’en night was perfect for trick-or-treating. A procession of adorable but predictable princesses and superheroes trooped by -- past the pumpkin, past
the penguin who greets all visitors to our door : and then one costume
caught me up short.
It was a tall, pale, longitudinal sort of smooth something, with just an
oval cut out for the child’s face.
“Is
that … a banana?” I inquired.
She
assured me that that was exactly what it was; and that she was so attired, in attestation to the
healthiness of fruits and vegetables.
Silently
blessing her in the back of my mind, I explained that the apparition had taken
me aback, because it took me back -- back
to that day in 1956, when our wonderful first-grade teacher, for reasons
unexplained (or perhaps explained, but not understood; or understood, but later forgotten, in
the flood of facts and fantasies of all the later years of our lives), showed
up dressed as a carrot.
A
giant carrot. Orange. Crunchy. The most amazing vision I had ever seen.
“Her
name was Miss Fleming,” I added casually:
as though this Objective Correlative might ratify an anecdote otherwise stretching
credulity.
~
And that, as with so many things on a flat earth
in a grey life, would have been that; save that she then spoke up -- evidently quite persuaded by
my narrative -- and added this pertinent detail:
“I know Miss Fleming.”
I
stared at her, incredulous. And
did not mention, that the events referred to lay a full half-century in the past. And that, quite shortly
thereafter, “Miss Fleming” was, as
such, no more, for she changed her name and station: the memory of her wedding is with me yet.
“She’s
a French teacher,” explained the banana.
Charmed
and amazed, I came back as best might be.
“Eh bien, toi -- tu parles français?”
She
prettily mimicked regret. “No-o… I
don’t know French yet.” Then
added brightly, with a note of earnestness: “Would you teach
me French?”
Ah,
ah! ma -- ma demi-demoiselle :
comme je le voudrais ! Les
mots, les gestes, les métaphores -- tout, tout, je te donnerais, te léguerais,
avec tout mon cœur battant !
These civilities past, I handed out the candy to the little
clump of goblins and whatnot, who formed her entourage. With that they withdrew, into the
inviting, the enveloping night.
A pang of regret at their going.
Yet then, from out of sight, a voice called back: “Au
revoir !”
Ah
dame oui, mais oui, j’espère, ma chère, chère demoisellette divine ! Peut-être cette
nuit-même, dans nos rêves !!
