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A Week As Sleep Sponge

I visited my dad and Khadija last week. The school district had the entire week off, and it’s not often I have the luxury to travel to the Great White North.

And it was indeed white there, and cold. But I was prepared, with boots and mittens and a warm hat and a scarf and warm shirts and a pair of long johns that The Fair And Industrious Trudy reminded me were in the (very) bottom of my chest of drawers. Few of those things get worn here. But they did there.

Or rather they were put to use on one day in particular. On that day (and only on that day), I ventured out into the elements, taking the bus downtown and walking to the National Gallery of Canada (Klee, Anthropocene, Halifax Harbor). Past the Chateau Laurier. Beneath the Peace Tower as the Carillon bells played. Past the locks. Down a windy street or two. My rarely worn winter clothes served me well. As did a couple stops at Tim Horton’s for coffee (and yes, I confess it now — a donut).

Yet despite the fact that I had come prepared for the weather, it was only on that one day that I went out. Other than a few other outings for food and groceries and … Tim Horton’s with dad for coffee, I did little else than hang out with the two of them.

And I confess it here, a fair amount of said hanging out was in fact spent napping. Because last week until this very day, I was a sleep sponge. And now it is time to go soak up some more, because it’ll soon be time to make the donuts.