Lewis, Anne

Digital Commons @ Butler University

42 MANUSCRIPTSdid dental appointments. I awoke in the mornings thinking aboutthe test, and I went to bed at night still thinking about the test. Whenit was finally given, if I did not fail, I at least had one of the lowestgrades in the class. \lVe did learn a great deal in that class, though.'vVeheard all about 1\11rs.D's daughter, Elizabeth, and her husband,Roy, not to mention their dog and cats. Every day as we walked intoclass someone would whisper, "Start her talking about her cats."Yes, I learned many things in eighth grade arithmetic.By constant study and tutoring by my journalism teacher and ad-visor of the school paper, I passed the required courses in high schoolmathematics. Now all that remains are the five hours of math neededfor graduation from college.Tones of GreyAnne LewisIAliI a little girl of six, standing with my hands clasped behind me,watching the swirls of grey water swell and burst on the dull greysand of Lake Michigan. The silver rain falls lightly on my face,and I stick out my tongue to catch a few drops of the jewel-like water.The rain seems sweet to my taste, and brings to my mind the hardrock candy that I have just eaten.Hearing a flapping of wings, I look up and see a pale grey seagullsweeping the black sky with his wings. It arches its neck and turnsto go away but decides to return and settle in the sand. Suddenly, agreat flock of the graceful birds comes whirring and churning out ofthe sky and approaches to nestle in the doleful sand. The beach wasa silent place except for the sound of the water, but now there is amingled sound that comes from the sand. It is the sound of hundredsof birds chattering and clucking to each other. These birds seem toblend into the sand and create the illusion of a lumpy quilt spreadover a bed of earth. Now they leave as abruptly as they came. Theymove as a body into the dark sky, producing a pale grey cloud hang-ing beneath a black sky.It is now quiet again, and it has stopped raining. I see a ghostlywhite sailboat against the horizon, and watching it toss and turnagainst the murky water, I feel afraid. I am conscious of beingsurrounded by the greys, the blacks, and the whites of this solemnscene. I turn and leave quickly, trying to keep in my memory thesolemn tones of grey that are a part of Lake Michigan.

Tones of Grey

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Tones of Grey

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