“Daydreaming again my pretty girl?” Father asked. Anne did not answer. It was a rhetorical question after all. To know anything at all about Anne was to know that she was always daydreaming. No matter where she was or what she was doing she was wondering what it might be like if, or when and so she often missed what was going on right under her nose.
Mother had determined long ago that Anne simply had the temperament of an artist and so she included sketching and painting classes, amongst the list of weekly activities that cluttered up the calendar on the refrigerator. Aunt Bette thought Anne would make a wonderful actress since she so often seemed to enjoy living other sorts of lives. The girls at school thought she was just silly. What kind of girl doesn’t stare and giggle at the boys?
Surprisingly she did remarkably well in school, considering the amount of time she spent not working on her homework or even her class work. Once out in the world she held a fairly decent job as the assistant manager at Barnes and Noble; which of course would be the ideal place for her to work since it fed her imagination to be surrounded by so very many books.
Of course her friends thought her daydreams were much like theirs, a husband and home, travel, money. How could they know that her daydreams were often set in places like ancient Carthage and featured fantastic parades of elephants?
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