A Day at Conkers
                                                                        By: Miss Amelia


   It was a crisp, autumn day.  The trees' flaming leavings reflected the memory of the burning heat of summer, while their ebbing color anticipated the cold that was to sap both hue and life from even the mightiest tree.
   Through the archway of horse chestnuts scampered a boy and girl, followed by their father who smiled, his eyes dimmed by tears.
   "Peter, see how many conkers I have gathered!  You shall not beat me at conkers today!" Cried the girl, who appeared to be about the age of eleven.
   "Just you wait, Eva," returned the boy, who was three years her junior.  "You throw like a girl, and your strikes on my nuts take all day to break them."
   At this, she gave him a playful shove, and he threw his chestnut at her.  It struck her left temple, but she only laughed off the sharp pain and stopped to gather more nuts.
   As they began stringing their chestnuts, their father laid down his cane and stretched out upon the moist grass, his back propped up against a mighty tree trunk.  He smiled to see such joy and innocence on display.  He closed his eyes, soaking in the waning rays of the sun, and exhaled a sigh.  It had been seven years--seven years since her laughter had buoyed up his shy soul.  But then there was the day of the accident.  It had all seemed so improbable, until she grew sick and forever left him in his solitude.
   Moments later, memory morphed into dreaming, and he was running by her side, racing to the "forbidden" pool.  The children were with the nanny for the day, and they were newlyweds again, or rather two children in love.  As they dashed, breathless and giggling, she threw out her leg in front of his right one, and he tripped a bit, just giving her the lead.  Guffawing, he charged after her, and, as she broke into the water, he grasped her about the waist, and they fell down into the water, rolling over and over.
   Suddenly, he felt a thud vibrating through her body which was clasped in his arms, and in a panic he pulled her above the water to the pool's edge.  Blood trickled down from her temple, though she beamed at him yet. 
   With tender motions, he washed the blood from her face, while she protested, "I am well, darling.  Stop fretting".

                                                                   ...to be continued...