toe, heel


We walk home toe, heel now. Our backs facing the harsh and unforgiving prairie winds, just as we did last year and each one before. It's funny walking past our neighbours; facing each other, but only after we've passed. Like a film played in reverse. It's this or choking on air, though. Luckily, we've become skilled in the art of toe, heel.

We picked out our tree at the backyard tree lot, two weeks before last on the cusp of November. Half the battle is convincing Mom to opt for a real one. The other half is conquering the battle of tree vs. small door frame. It's all dressed up in the corner now, in knickknacks from and before my time. I like our ornaments and how each one brings to mind a certain feeling or a certain day or a certain person. Buying a proper set of ornaments is probably something I'll never do.

December hasn't been too generous with time to think or write or sit (I've been meaning to write for two weeks now). But she's been generous with time. Time for tests and work and preparation and overwhelming decisions. It'll all be worth it come Christmas break. I'll be thankful for it, even. It's a chop your own wood and it will warm you twice sort of month, and this week is the final swing of the axe. 

Warmth is on its way.