Pictures in slow motion

It is Wednesday morning and the sun is benign this particular day. Bright but not hard, it warms but doesn't scorch. The kind of a day when one feels the rays oozing nourishment on to the skin.

Our girl would give anything to stand out in the sun, spread her arms and twirl. She would too, if she doesn't have anywhere important to be this particular morning.

All around her cars, autos and bikes jostle for space intent on making the most of a green light. As she stops at the next red, the mind wanders and where it wanders, it makes her stomach lurch. Her knuckles, cold from the AC blast tighten convulsively on the steering wheel and she laughs a little hysterically when she realizes that she has always wanted to know what this "convulsive tightening of knuckles" that she reads about in books feels like.

First day of work. Big step for the young lady who has never really ventured out anywhere by herself before. The nerves are there, snaking up her spine inevitably.

Of all the cacophony of thoughts in her head, one stands out: You are not equipped, you are not capable, turn around and go home. She shakes her head to clear her mind, but it doesn't help. The tension stays like a dead weight. To distract herself, she looks out the passenger seat window and glimpses two small boys running along the side of the road. It is eight thirty in the morning and there is obviously a school somewhere up ahead, the uniformed multitude being evidence enough. And then there are our two boys. She sees one chasing the other, he who is holding a tiny toy car aloft in his hand as he dodges his friend. The looks on their faces touch her in this moment than anything else could have, would have done. Her eyes follow the boys as they run past the car and with a burst of speed disappear down the road.

Abruptly, she remembers school, remembers the gut wrenching nervousness of the first days, remembers recesses and mass produced tuck shop puffs, remembers games in the courtyard, sweat and the sticky sweetness of candy. She remembers how school felt like a refuge, how problems and questions of loneliness were solved with an innocent, "Hi, can I be your friend?" A smile was all you needed. She remembers how easy it was to make friends.

She smiles. Thirty second at a traffic light and she is smiling again. Those boys have reminded her about some of the simplest yet most important things life has taught her so far. Making friends is easy.

As she drives away, she wishes that she had thought to capture the lads in a snap shot, if only a snap shot could convey the vivacity of the picture. She could have framed it and called it 'Pictures in slow motion'.

She sends a thought out into the universe, "I'll be fine."