ONE SUMMER

Sarah was one of those people who breeze in and out of our lives so quick that we dare not blink for fear of missing the creation of wonderful memories.

‘Hi, can I join you?’ She’d asked as I sat with some friends in the local park. ‘I’m new in town but would like to turn local.’ She’d smiled and we’d opened our teenage arms in welcome.

Within days she’d captured the hearts of everyone in our small town. She laughed and cried over our teenage woes, played games with the younger children, discussed the pleasure and pain of marriage with newlyweds, and reminisced with pensioners. It didn’t matter what age, status, job, or problem you had, Sarah was always willing to listen, talk, and understand.

She was a wonderful storyteller too, entrancing us all with tales of people and places we’d heard of but never visited. Her words changed to accommodate time, action, accents, and age.

She knew the characters so intimately it was hard to believe she hadn’t lived alongside them.

She had such a vast knowledge of life and experience for one so young that she was a perfect candidate for proof of reincarnation.

Sarah reacted to praise for her story telling with a dismissive flick of her hand and said,

‘I’ve read so many books and I love to listen and observe interesting people who’ve been places.’ But in all the time she was living amongst us I never saw her reading and she was the only interesting person who’d been places in our town.

It wasn’t until she left when summer ended that I realised how little I knew about her. She’d skilfully turned conversations away from herself or launched into a tale so fascinating we’d forget our questions. I’d noticed she didn’t like the way she looked. It was obvious from her avoidance of reflective surfaces. She’d frown with a look of disappointment if she saw her refection in a shop window. I can assure you there was nothing about her face or body that was disappointing. In fact, her personality and beauty had an ageless quality.



A quality I never expected to see again, but last night my teenage daughter brought home a new friend, a girl who’d just arrived in the city for the summer.

Her name is Sarah.