Sixteen Again

It was a beautiful day, it was the much awaited class reunion. For all of two years with COVID restrictions, such meetings had been kept at bay. After much discussion and deliberation,it was decided we meet at our alma mater. The necessary permissions were sought and granted, so we came together, to meet at the school gates, once again. Standing there, the memories they came a flooding, the years slipped away and we were sixteen again.

Walking sedately, our steps effortlessly covering the distance of the once long drive, we were reminded of our school days, as if it were yesterday. We saw our young faces racing by, our braids and ribbons flying, as we ran up the drive, with seconds to spare, before the final bell. There stood Sister Vaune, glowering, taking note of the stragglers. Frowning at the fashionably shortened skirts, her scathing remark, “it is like being in thigh-land” rang in our ears . With a sense of pride we recalled, our assembly the singing and prayers, followed by the word for the day.

We recollected dispersing noisily, scrambling, and bounding up the stairs, very often two at a time, before we reached our classrooms, to settle down , under the watchful eyes of the class teacher .The day dragging on slowly, until it was snack break when we collected our small cache of coins, to dash to the Tuck Shop, to wait in line for those delicious samosas and the brown candy .The fifteen minutes always passed too quickly, and back to class we went, reluctantly.

Walking through the games field , which has changed much, we reminisced about Mrs. Rodrigues and the hour of physical fitness, which had us arguing about which House was the best. Sandwiched between the sciences and languages, the games period was, for some a rigorous work out, and for others, just a break from the rigours of learning.

The lunch pavilion, brought memories of the supervised lunch break we had. Chatting with one another, sharing our boxes, the half hour was a boisterous affair and went too swiftly. When done , back to our classrooms we went, dragging our feet, none too enthusiastic about the history or geography classes. We sat through the afternoon session, waiting for freedom bell .

And when that bell finally rang , we were running and jostling, hurtling down the stairs, hollering and shouting, some even sliding down the bannisters, as we sped home. Those scenes filled our minds, it was like yesterday once again . Until we tried to straddle that railing, and realised time had gone by – all of 45 years and we are no longer sixteen.