“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.
"Liquid sunshine," Floyd said as we piled into the car. "At least I don't have to shovel it."
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.