Ruth's Real Life

I couple of Saturdays ago; I came home to find Julia with tears in her eyes. She told me that she had been given the most amazing gift. To give this context, you need to understand that Julia is used to receiving gifts. At the end of a school year, she receives so many gifts that it takes more than one trip from school to bring them all home. Many of these gifts are extravagant. Julia teaches at the St Stithians Thandulwazi School on a Saturday morning. The purpose of the school is to empower underprivileged learners and to help teachers who want to improve their skills. Julia teaches English to the teachers. One of the women was so touched by Julia’s passion and desire to make a difference, that she had brought a gift. I was intrigued to find out what kind of gift had caused this depth of emotion. On the table was a crumpled plastic packet. Tears streaming down her cheeks, Julia opened the packet. There was nothing shiny in it, no layers of gold paper, no ribbons or bows to...

At a lunch recently, our hostess asked us to tell a childhood story of Christmas.. I was caught unawares by the sudden prickle of tears brought by the deep memory that came unbidden. It was Christmas Eve. The boys were off doing whatever it is boys do at the seaside: searching for crabs in rock pools; swimming out beyond the waves; coming home salt and sun bleached. The girl, even at seven, didn’t mind being alone. The garden that encircled the holiday cottage was a tropical tangle of banana trees, Frangipani and Hibiscus. Shadowed wings flitted through the trees. Lizards, faster than her reaching fingers, slid into cracks and crevices as she approached, but it wasn’t the lizards that she wanted. Her hair, free for once of the tight, white bow that her grandmother insisted on, swung over her eyes as she bent to look for her treasure. It had to be a certain size, small enough to fit into the packet hidden under her pillow. The narrow, silver packet was covered in green and re...