Anne walked into her bedroom and glanced around. Her eyes took in everything there; pictures of Marilla, Matthew, and Green Gables. There were letters and other things that reminded her of her home. Sitting down at her desk Anne took out a folder and crumpled up the story that lay within in. Setting out a fresh sheet of paper she began…
Dearest Diana,
How is married life treating you? Do you have your thirty-seven or more doilies? I miss you excruciatingly and I can't wait for the summer when I can see you and everyone again. I am writing you to tell you of the strangest thing that happened to me today. I saw Gilbert Blythe.
We ran into each other in the park today, he was in town for a medical conference. We had a short discussion about the various goings on in each of our lives. I am sure you know of mine…and I thought you would have known of Gil's except you failed to mention at any point that he was engaged to be married next summer. It must have just slipped your mind? This news is bothering me a great deal for some reason. I suppose it is because Christine Stuart is so ordinary. I think that is the word I am looking for. After our discussion and before he left Gil gave me a note that said:
Congratulations on all your success, Carrots.
From your old chum Gilbert
I could not help laughing a little as I read the note, he called me carrots. That boy is impossible. It triggered so many memories of childhood in Avonlea with you, Gil and everyone. Everything from the first time he called me carrots (resulting in the slate incident) to that scrape with Dolly. I even got dragged back to that night on the bridge when Gil first proposed. The next thing I knew I was running the few remaining blocks to the train station without even thinking about what I would do when I got there.
Luckily, what little common sense I have got the better of me as I reached the station. I stopped quickly and asked myself out loud "What in heavens name are you doing here Anne Shirley? What are you thinking of doing?"
I knew exactly what I was thinking of doing. For a whole ten minutes I actually thought of telling Gilbert NOT to marry Christine Stuart. I really need to get over this habit of hating change. Oh but anyway, I walked into the station house and through the back towards the platform. When I saw that the train was pulling out I couldn't stop myself from yelling to him Diana. When he came out the back door of the train all I could force out was "Thank you."
On the walk back here a few other things played through my mind. I mean, how could Gilbert Blythe of all people be getting married? Admittedly, I did tell him he would meet someone better. Someone who deserved him, but I did not think it would be this quickly. Oh well, I wish him the best happiness in the world. Even if she does seem like a bit of a stick in the mud.
Something else Gilbert said struck me. Once again he commented on my writing and how I should write about Avonlea. I am tempted to take him up on it if only to make him stop asking. Avonlea is not exactly the most interesting place on the globe, but I guess it is a start.
Well Diana, off I must go as it is getting quite late. I hope to hear from you soon.
Your loving and devoted friend,
Anne Shirley
As Anne signed the letter she seemed distracted once again by the pictures, letters, and general reminders of home strewn around her bedroom. Suddenly she realized that Gil might be right. Memories started pouring into her head one by one, all the little stories and anecdotes that she had heard over her years growing up on the island. With a start Anne grabbed another sheet of paper and pushed aside the letter she had written to Diana. All of a sudden it didn't seem as important.
Once she started writing she almost didn't want to stop. When the clock in the hall struck eleven Anne stared at the first few pages of Avonlea she had written, as that was the only way to describe her story. Those words and stories were Avonlea no if ands or buts. Anne put her pen down exhaustedly and got ready for bed.
As Anne settled in for the night she had three things on her mind; First her classes for tomorrow, secondly this new novel, and the third and most confusing thought of all was would all of her efforts make Gil proud. After all since when had she ever cared what Gil thought anyway?
Dearest Diana,
How is married life treating you? Do you have your thirty-seven or more doilies? I miss you excruciatingly and I can't wait for the summer when I can see you and everyone again. I am writing you to tell you of the strangest thing that happened to me today. I saw Gilbert Blythe.
We ran into each other in the park today, he was in town for a medical conference. We had a short discussion about the various goings on in each of our lives. I am sure you know of mine…and I thought you would have known of Gil's except you failed to mention at any point that he was engaged to be married next summer. It must have just slipped your mind? This news is bothering me a great deal for some reason. I suppose it is because Christine Stuart is so ordinary. I think that is the word I am looking for. After our discussion and before he left Gil gave me a note that said:
Congratulations on all your success, Carrots.
From your old chum Gilbert
I could not help laughing a little as I read the note, he called me carrots. That boy is impossible. It triggered so many memories of childhood in Avonlea with you, Gil and everyone. Everything from the first time he called me carrots (resulting in the slate incident) to that scrape with Dolly. I even got dragged back to that night on the bridge when Gil first proposed. The next thing I knew I was running the few remaining blocks to the train station without even thinking about what I would do when I got there.
Luckily, what little common sense I have got the better of me as I reached the station. I stopped quickly and asked myself out loud "What in heavens name are you doing here Anne Shirley? What are you thinking of doing?"
I knew exactly what I was thinking of doing. For a whole ten minutes I actually thought of telling Gilbert NOT to marry Christine Stuart. I really need to get over this habit of hating change. Oh but anyway, I walked into the station house and through the back towards the platform. When I saw that the train was pulling out I couldn't stop myself from yelling to him Diana. When he came out the back door of the train all I could force out was "Thank you."
On the walk back here a few other things played through my mind. I mean, how could Gilbert Blythe of all people be getting married? Admittedly, I did tell him he would meet someone better. Someone who deserved him, but I did not think it would be this quickly. Oh well, I wish him the best happiness in the world. Even if she does seem like a bit of a stick in the mud.
Something else Gilbert said struck me. Once again he commented on my writing and how I should write about Avonlea. I am tempted to take him up on it if only to make him stop asking. Avonlea is not exactly the most interesting place on the globe, but I guess it is a start.
Well Diana, off I must go as it is getting quite late. I hope to hear from you soon.
Your loving and devoted friend,
Anne Shirley
As Anne signed the letter she seemed distracted once again by the pictures, letters, and general reminders of home strewn around her bedroom. Suddenly she realized that Gil might be right. Memories started pouring into her head one by one, all the little stories and anecdotes that she had heard over her years growing up on the island. With a start Anne grabbed another sheet of paper and pushed aside the letter she had written to Diana. All of a sudden it didn't seem as important.
Once she started writing she almost didn't want to stop. When the clock in the hall struck eleven Anne stared at the first few pages of Avonlea she had written, as that was the only way to describe her story. Those words and stories were Avonlea no if ands or buts. Anne put her pen down exhaustedly and got ready for bed.
As Anne settled in for the night she had three things on her mind; First her classes for tomorrow, secondly this new novel, and the third and most confusing thought of all was would all of her efforts make Gil proud. After all since when had she ever cared what Gil thought anyway?