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Show 284 But after all, that was only one aspect of sixth grade. There had been good times, good feelings. Today, driving the convertible, with the passing drivers glancing at her, she wanted to remember those, the good feelings. Sixth grade! It was so long ago. She wished suddenly now that they could have talked longer, that she could have found some way to come closer to those days-those feelings-from her childhood. She could sense them, just beyond her, the feel of them. How appropriate- how ironic!-that the one day that she had been skipping school she should see Sister Joan. It almost seemed like there was some kind of intervention, almost some form of divine guidance, into the small areas of one's life. But yes! that was a feeling from sixth grade. She had believed that in sixth grade. And now, remembering that feeling- of constant surveillance, of God peeking from behind every corner of her life-she suddenly missed it. Even though she could not-nor did not want-to believe that way anymore. Well, her wish to be brought close to those old days had been granted. Now she could leave them for the present: for the early morning sun on her face, the car purring along. She glanced toward the sun, toward the east. Robbie was someplace out there, probably over Arizona or Nevada right now. The plane bearing him away. Bearing him away into her own future. That night a storm came in, with a soft drizzle, and when she woke the next morning, it was foggy, damp. Which meant that she would not be able to take the top down on the convertible. That was a disappointment. |