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When will we see your like again? March 04, 2002, 10:09 p.m. Of Scotland I reminisce, and to her hills I dream of returning. I close my eyes and I see her again, her time-worn castles, her cloudy skies and late midsummer nights, her green fields crossed with stone walls and dotted with sheep. I remember the sticky taste of a strawberry tart bought for fifty pence on Morningside Road. I believe that even now I could walk from Kitty's house to our host school, Watson's College. Little P5 boys in knee socks and knickers with cheeky Scottish accents ask us, "Are you the Americans? What are your names? Where are you from? I've never heard of it. James fancies you." ("I do not!" cries James.) We watch as James tries to pour his spring water over his comrade, then as all the boys join together in the more interesting pursuit of splashing the P5 girls. When will we see your like again? ... Those days are past now And in the past they must remain... Sigh. I will return, one day...
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