across the miles

I just couldn't believe the color of her skin as she sat across the desk from me, speaking softly about books for her daughter. African of origin, her pigment was so richly dark, words failed me...mahogany, aborigine, ebony - nothing was adequate. I felt my own completely unremarkable wash of whiteness! But color aside, we were talking books. We started with the Little House series and got the first four of them lined up on reserve. Then she spoke of Anne of Green Gables and the Boxcar Children - all old-fashioned classics. "That's what I want my girl to read and love", she said. And I remembered my introduction to the Laura Wilder series... in a rural two-roomed schoolhouse, listening to Mrs.Martin read each one - taking Laura from birth to marriage - and being completely entranced. Suddenly miles, origin, language melted away and  we were home by the fireside smiling knowingly over books.