Rooted, I used to think.

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Wednesday, Nov. 09, 2022 @ 2:19 pm
Dry Cold

The weather is cold, dry and sunny, and it reminds me of living in the north. Of bright sunny days in Prince George, the dry snow squeaking under my boots. Sun streaming in the bathroom window. The cat, my Alf, drowsing lazily on the couch.

I remember one cold, clear night, when we knew that our time in the north was coming to an end. I remember our last walk along our street. Bright moon in a star-studded sky. The subdivision dead quiet except for the squeaking snow under our boots.

"This is the last time that we'll walk together here," I'd said. "Our last squeaky walk."

I was right.

Roots | Shoots