Played hooky from the family tonight. Watched "Raiders of the Lost Ark" with a friend at the Bloor, and walked 'home' through High Park in the snow. Got coffee at the Grenadier before the kids closed it up. Walked past the pond, thinking about how long it's been since it was frozen - memories of skating on it with friends, falling, busting noses on ice that was supposed to conceal bodies in red coats (still).
Coming over a small hill, which faces onto the new children's playground, I spotted a woman. She was crouching on the concrete path, hand outstretched to a tiny white shape, black tights covered with a frost that shivered refraction from the streetlight above. It was a squirrel, black, inexplicably awake - covered, completely, in a matted coat of snow and ice, glinting white. Sniffing at her hand experimentally. Nibbling the gingerbread cookie, outstretched. It watched her, she watched it, I watched them both. Finished my coffee. Walked 'home.'
Suddenly, it feels like Christmas.
Coming over a small hill, which faces onto the new children's playground, I spotted a woman. She was crouching on the concrete path, hand outstretched to a tiny white shape, black tights covered with a frost that shivered refraction from the streetlight above. It was a squirrel, black, inexplicably awake - covered, completely, in a matted coat of snow and ice, glinting white. Sniffing at her hand experimentally. Nibbling the gingerbread cookie, outstretched. It watched her, she watched it, I watched them both. Finished my coffee. Walked 'home.'
Suddenly, it feels like Christmas.