A Special Person
    A man with a lazy eye and a crooked finger suddenly ceased his blathering. Our principal, Bob, rolled out in his wheelchair, the wheels squeaking steadily. A woman stood next to him. She must've been about thirty, with hair like melting chocolate, and flawless olive skin that you could tell was smooth. She had black rimmed glasses, a quiet smile, and a shy expression.
    "This, kids, is Mara,"everyone knew who she was, or at least, we were pretty sure."She's the new four/five teacher." We were right.
    She smiled a little bigger, shyly waved, and quietly said "Hi." That's all she said.
    "She, as you know, is replacing Tim," Bob loudly began. He said something else, but my eyes were too busy looking at Mara for my ears to work.
    I was in Mara's class. Room six. She never wore her glasses. I always wondered about that. Fourth grade must've been difficult for her. I was so dreadfully annoying, as were a lot of my classmates. She never got angry. Never yelled. That's what I loved about her.
    On the last day of fourth grade, which was also my tenth birthday, we were doing appreciations. I spoke really softly. She couldn't hear me. I'm not going to lie. I really didn't like Mara that day. I tried to speak up. After a while of someone telling you to be loud, you just want to well, be loud. Scream. Tell them to shut up. I did, terribly enough, just that. I threw a two year old tantrum with some excuse about how it was "MY BIRTHDAY!!!!" She didn't get mad, she stayed calm.
    Mara was such an adventurer. She went to Madagascar the summer between fourth and fifth grade with a group of scientists to study the Slick Fossa, a relative of the mongoose, and an increasingly endangered species found soley on Madagascar.
   The first day of fifth grade was awkward to say the least. When you don't see someone for a while, and you did something reaaly stupid the last time you saw them, you basically hope they forgot about it. She probably didn't, but she acted like she did, which was good, because I had calmed down, and stopped being so annoying. We learned so many interesting things that year about Madagascar and her amazing trip there the previous summer. I really remember her teaching us that more than 80% of the animals that live on Madagascar live only on Madagascar. We also wrote complaint letters to Celestial Seasonings tea, because on their Madagascar Vanilla Red Tea box, none of the animals were from Madagascar. They sent us a generic letter that was saccharin and crushing.
    "We are so glad to hear from our customers..." They sent us magnets, free tea, and an invitation to come to their factory if we ever found ourselves in Boulder, Colorado, but nothing that indicated they even read our letters. They changed the box, but don't be happy yet. They changed it from a lion, a giraffe, a zebra, and an antelope to just a giant lion. I don't think they got the point, but Mara was proud of us for being the little activists that we were. She was so amazing. Although she kept it well hidden, Mara had been diagnosed with some parasite that she supposedly caught in Madagascar.
    I also remember studying Venezuela in spanish class, and doing a presentation on it. The class was over and I wouldn't shut up. She gently took me aside to tell me to stop, and I was so embarrassed that I made something of it, and swore that I 'HATED' her. I didn't. She didn't get mad at me. She brushed it off. When we graduated from Aurora, my elementary school, she wrote in my yearbook
    "I wish you all the best, I will miss you, love, Mara."
    Mara went scuba diving in Honduras. She broke a rib. She went to the doctor. He told her some terrifying news. Remember that parasite? It was colon cancer. She was thirty two.
    Mara spent the next year in experimental therapy. She always said she would come back to Aurora. At the traditional six month reunion, I saw her. She had lost a lot of weight, she was pale, her skin had lost it's warm, olive glow. Her chocolate hair was now thin, and graying.
    Jokingly I did something a little rude to this girl in my old class. I told her I got my ears peirced. She said "They weren't before?"
    I said laughingly "Wow, you don't notice details." Mara scowled at me. I suddenly said "Just kidding." loud enough for her to hear. The scowl relaxed from her face. I didn't talk to her the rest of the night. I figured I would see her at some Aurora function in a couple of months.
    Remember that whole thing about when you see someone after not seeing them, and you did something stupid before, and you hope they forgot about it? Well, I hope she forgot about it. I'll never know. I got an invitation to her memorial service a couple weeks ago. She was thirty three years old. Too young.