“No, Lyndi, it'll be too cold for flip-flops and shorts. B.C. is still part of Canada. It's still winter.”
Laughter. One of the guards slapped Floyd on the back. And he was free.
"Have a romantic holiday," the guard called to me.
I thought that was a rather personal thing to call but just smiled.
Floyd lead me away from the security area. "Where you worried?"
"Who? Me? Oh, no--not at all," I lied.
There was a woman with glasses and curly brunette hair standing beside the luggage carousel. Floyd steered us right toward her. "Hi, Mom." Floyd gave her a hug. "This is Lyndi."
"Welcome, Lyndi." She greeted me with a smile. "Have you been to B.C. before?"
"Yes, once when I was twelve, but never in the winter."
"Oh, well, you better bundle up. It's minus ten and raining."
"Mom, we just left minus thirty-five and snow. We'll be fine." Floyd's jacket remained folded over his arm.
As we walked through the parking lot, I felt a raindrop on my shoulder. What felt like five minutes later, one landed on an eyelash. This is rain in B.C.?
"Liquid sunshine," Floyd said as we piled into the car. "At least I don't have to shovel it."
Guest post Friday: My First Writing Sabbatical by
Dean K Miller
Next Monday: Part two of Visiting B.C.
Sharing my author journey...
How long does it take to write a novel, a novella, a short story. Well, my track record is pretty good. I've written a short story in twenty minutes and woken up to one fully formed in my brain. But then there are others that require a little more time. My comment on one such story--that I completed writing last week...
Photo: a kindhearted neighbour with a green thumb plucked these beauties out of her garden, arranged them in a vase and gave them to me. : )
This story was ripped out of a deep place close to my heart. Bringing it onto the page hurt. It took strength and left me exhausted. But now it's complete and I'm free and so proud.