MMM: Ghosts of Christmas Passed
Mostly Montreal Monday
I either need to buy a hood for my 28mm lens or stop taking pictures in snowstorms. Until then I continue to grab my camera, make the sign of the cross over it and seek inspiration. Last week I found it at the Mont Royal Cemetery.
Suddenly amidst the flurries, a splash of color:
I was pleased at the discovery and wondered about the people who decorate their dearly departed’s crypt for Christmas. I felt grateful that I had no tomb to visit during the holidays.
Surrounded by dead people, I did start to wonder where all the alive ones were hiding. I was atop a mountain in my tiny Hyundai, with my tiny child, during a big snowstorm and totally alone “touring” a cemetery. I got the hell out of there.
A couple of days later, temperatures in the 20s (F) persuaded me to return, this time with Farrah Star on my back, for a short hike to the Mont Royal Cross, a walk we’d done before in the fall.
In the span of 60-minutes I saw exactly four cross-country skiers whoosh by us, that’s it. I did see birds though, if you count birds at a feeder which I do since I now live in an urban setting.
Why do I keep ending up alone in this park? In a snowstorm, in the woods and this time without shelter? A flair for the dramatic I fully acknowledge as this is a city park after all and not the Andes. I do carry a phone and can scream really loud (in French) but something changed in me when I become a mother and now I risk nothing. A foolish notion because breastfeedingly speaking (my term), I could be the only person left on earth and my child would be fine but really, who needs that pressure? So for the second time in a week, I took my daughter and fled.
With no harm done but some mild heart-racing, we made it to explore another Monday.
If anyone wants to join, let me know. Let’s not be alone together.