I trusted Peter's directions to his house over my parents. It was silly... to take advice from the guy I've known a week over my own parents. It ended up working out just fine with only one minor 'field trip' off course.

I know that I trust people too quickly. Is this a bad trait? Or just uncommon from a city-raised girl?

When I arrived, I fell into his arms. Snow flakes melted in my hair. We did nothing, as usual. Bonding is so subtle, but it is there.

I drove home at midnight. The Jetta broke the path along the highway. Not a plough was in sight.

Peter had walked me out to the car. I tried to catch snowflakes on my tongue... I grabbed him and pointed up to the wonderland around the streetlamp. I see these things. These wonderous images, shapes, colours. I don't think he's ever thought to look at them before. He just didn't seem to see the amazing thing about the snow and the street lamp.

Dad escorted me to work today. I discovered a way to connect with him: to bring him to work and show him something new. He really thrives on learning. I bet he will tell all the ladies at work about collecting quail eggs with his daughter on Sunday morning.