Within a few steps from home it’s clear no adjective could do this weather justice the sky a school parking lot on a Sunday afternoon its colour the sea in holiday brochures the light such that no detail’s missed shade under the trees I pass forming pools to splash through or plunge into Shaking off water like a dog I wonder whether to dress or walk on like this the sun warming skin blanched by winter
While you kids are colouring
(quietly, that’s lovely,
and it’ll last a couple of minutes)
I’ll do the register
Now, who’s here?
Sebastiano, are you here?
YES!
Elena, are YOU here?
Yes
Edward, are YOU here?
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes
Marta, are you HERE?
Yes (I’d type that in a smaller font, but don’t know how)
Eugenio, are YOU here?
Si
Giacomo, are you here?
(I can see he isn’t
but there’s a tradition to follow:
calling every name)
GIACOMO, are you HERE?
I repeat for effect
NO! Sebastiano shouts back
his tone suggesting
I should know better
He’s sick
Elena informs me
Brianna, are you here?
The last name
on the register,
she’s new
the niece of a former student
from Peru, I think
her mother just told me
she doesn’t speak Italian
No answer, then
but I don’t insist
maybe next time
I modify my voice,
Two more minutes, kids,
then finish your pictures
at home.
“I don’t have colors at home”
Eugenio complains
“I have LOTS” says Edward.
Tell your mum and dad
that colors are important
I say
and everyone nods –
it’s obvious
One minute! I announce and start tidying away the colored pens into plastic pots
Our train took what seemed like forever to leave behind the ad-plastered smoke-stained downtown that was January and navigate at not much more than a slow trot – certainly nowhere near a gallop – the endless back gardens and washing lines of February By the first gloomy fields of early March we’d picked up speed at last, and now cheerful chatter opened beer cans balanced on seat-back trays we’re going full out wheels clattering on steel tracks the train rocking from side to side really whizzing along the white trackside blossom of mid April just a blur outside the window up front, the driver getting ready to brake to slow us down for our first scheduled stop – 2019’s late Easter – the grimy city behind us all but forgotten