Ti Da

Last Tuesday morning around 10:30 am I was enjoying being by myself in the house I stay at in Fond Verrettes, which is the office for the local farmer's cooperative. I was sitting at the desk writing notes. The air outside was warm but inside it was cool and quiet. Suddenly a small, bright face popped up on the other side of the iron bars that wall in the porch. "Hello!" said a young girl of about six years. "You're Anna, right?" She said she'd heard the priest introduce me at the mass Sunday morning. She'd also seen me Saturday at the onion beds where I'd let her look at one of the pictures I'd taken on my camera. She asked me how I was doing. She told me her name, which I couldn't understand. I must have looked at her quizzically because she helpfully added, "People call me Ti Da." She was returning from the outdoor market with a small bag of salt for her mother. She started to go and then asked if she could have a glass of water. I brought her a tall glass and she drank it in one long swallow, tossed the last bit onto the ground, thanked me, and left. I stood there thinking, What a lovely creature, so full of life and cheer and brightness!