As I trudge my way through the unfazed sea of snow I realize how close to paradise I presently am. Also I realize how badly I want to get out of it and into a nice hot bath. There's a certain serenity in a fresh blanket of snow, when the wind's not blowing and all is calm. When you are warm inside your clumsy snow suit and all sounds muffled by your scarf wrapped close around your head. It is as if you no longer have a body, no feelings, no emotions and you are sucked out into the vacuum of an empty blue winter's sky. You are the environment, you belong here. That's why there are so many hazards in your way to stop you from escaping it. In this case, the deep snow. You fall about like a clunky fool who's learning to dance, trying to rush wherever you're headed. And the smooth blanket of snow, so organized and serenely draped across everything, sparkling, relaxed tries its best to keep you from getting there.

        And as much as I want to stay, and as hard as all this tries to detain me, I clobber on, rushing for my next paradise. For no paradise is a paradise without another one ahead to complete it. The present is perfect. You always belong in the present. But you've got to keep moving to get to a better and different present. My warm bath is there, at home. A rustic piece of porcelain, it has carved lion feet and rests crookedly on a wooden floor. And it drips too, so that when you get out, you step onto a warm floor, much like the floor of a sauna. It's heaven.

        Rushing down the hill of the Royal-Sunalta park I fall twice. Small balls of snow cling and solidify on my sweaty mittens. These are Julie's mittens. They barely fit me.

        Continuing on I clobber through the front gate and clobber my way to the door which I kick open. It is never locked. Shutting the door behind me I fall over to wrench off my boots. Getting back up I begin to peel off my snow-pants. Hopping over to the stairs they finally come off. I take a step up the stairs, off come the mitts. Another step, my jacket. Another, my sweater. Another, my shirt. Then my pants, my bra and my socks. At the top of the stairs I struggle with my panties as I push through the wooden door and into the bathroom. The silk comes off and is thrown into the corner. The hot water handle is slammed on full blast. I collapse to the floor in exhaustion and anticipation, hearing the bath fill up. The room is getting warm. It is paradise.

        I wave the water between my breasts and run my hands smoothly down my thighs. My body, light brown and smooth, ripples underwater. It belongs here, underwater. The door slams downstairs and there are footsteps coming up the stairs. Each creak of the stairs becomes lessened as the weight of the person upon it removes their clothing. There is a pause between steps. I listen anxiously. Then there is a continuous thud, Bump Bump Bump!, down the stairs and the object rests at the bottom. Another step and then a pause. Thump, thump...thump, thump-thump-thump, thud. Julie always does that, removes her boots last, halfway up the stairs. Makes more of a mess that way. And kids like mess.

        She hurries up the rest of the stairs and then opens the bathroom door. Julie enters. Pulling the toque off of her head she asks, "How come the man next door has a box on his chest?" She throws the toque in the corner, near my panties. Her hair was sticking up in all directions. Toque hair. Julie makes enough of it to export.

        "A box?" I ask, closing my eyes. I assume she's talking about the man who moved in across the street about a month ago.

        "Yeah. It's black and rectangular and it says different stuff sometimes." She paused and I soaked up water and silence "Do you know what it's for?"

        "No," I continued, "I haven't even seen the next door neighbour."

        "Oh," she paused and I could sense her turn to go. She paused and then turned back to me. "What's for dinner?" she asks.

        "I don't know. I haven't thought about it."

        I slopped the corn onto Julie's white plate with a clank. The dark outside floods through the windows like fog, like a negative halo.

        "Corn again?" Julie whines.

        "Yes, corn again." I turn to put the pot away. "I don't have enough time to work and cook gourmet meals everyday, you know."

        "Mom never made corn."

        "I'm not mom, ok?"

        She shrugs and then blushes. "Sorry," she says. It hurts me when she says that. She doesn't do it to be mean. It's just a fact to her. My sister Julie's the sort of person that clobbers on regardless, never thinking about the next step, never even thinking about the present step. It's probably why she's so happy, regardless.

        Julie's content with what she's got, even if it's corn. I can see that now as she stuffs loads of it into her mouth. In a few moments she'll ask, 'more please' and I'll get up and give her some. I like being mom, but it's hard...and I'm bitter.

        I begin to eat my corn.

        "More please," Julie holds her plate up.

        "You want more corn?"

        "Please"

        "Just a minute ago you never wanted to see corn again."

        Julie just shrugs, "More please" I get up and put more on her plate.

        "What'd you do at school today?" I ask taking some more corn into my mouth. I love corn, you can never grow tired of it.

        "Oh!" she said and her face brightened up, she ran from the dinner table and disappeared from the kitchen. A few mouthfuls of corn later she returned with her battered-up, grey back pack. One of the straps on the backpack is ripped in half and the other is too long for her. But she continues to wear it. She doesn't care. I'm glad for that because I don't generally like spending money, seeing as I never have much.

        She pulls out a small cardboard figure that has been mangled and maimed inside the recesses of her backpack. She hands it to me by the string that it's attached to. It is a group of four people holding hands. The smallest person on the end is holding something that sort of dangles in the air barely attached to the cardboard. It is black and looks like something burnt or terribly mangled, it looks like a large, burnt cookie.

        "Oh," I say with enthusiasm, "Is this a cookie?" referring to the charred object.

        "It's a cat!" she says proud of herself, not even noticing my big mistake. I'm glad she never does.

        "Oh..." I pause for a moment, trying to see it, but I can't.

        "It's my cat!" she says.

        "Your cat?"

        "Yeah, that's me on the end." She points.

        "Well," I say, "it certainly looks like you. It has the nice dress and pig-tails too. And this is me...," I say pointing to the taller figure next to her, "and this is...mom, I guess." She got mom right. An elegant, proud, emotional dark skinned Jewish woman. Funny how a mangled cardboard character could capture all that.

        "Yup" she says and stuffs her face. There is one more figure left on the cardboard, but I can't figure it out. I thumb it, and then its cardboard hair. It is a handsome ruggish figure.

        "And who's this?" I ask.

        "It's dad!" she says excitedly.

        "Oh." The father figure is holding hands with our mom. That's something I'd never have expected to see. Of course, I never really knew my father that well. He left before I really got the chance to. At least Julie can love him. She doesn't know enough of him to hate him as I do so she loves him unconditionally. But I know one more thing than Julie, that he left us. He just disappeared. Mom was heart-broken, I could tell. But she never said anything of it. Never mentioned him.

        "It's a Christmas ornament!" she says, "you can hang it on the tree."

        I nod and peruse it. It's a nice fairy tale. I look at the man on the side. It must be nice to have a father, I think, even if he doesn't exist. Lucky cardboard characters.

        "More corn, please," she asks politely. I take her plate and mine. Filling hers up I hand it back to her. I turn back to fill up mine.

        It was then that I saw it there, as I turned back from the kitchen counter. You couldn't see anything out those windows, not even silhouettes of trees. But out there as I turned towards the table I saw the red light, small and distant, sharp and clear. And it gave all the nothingness out there a proportion. The flash lasted for no more than four seconds. But I saw the word, red and alone; a neon sign. Cold, it said, and then was gone.

        Nothing else appeared so I turned back to the counter and got some corn, my movements mechanical as my mind was focused on what I'd just seen. But I let it pass; strange things happen. But as I turned back to the red and white checkered tablecloth the image was engraved in my brain. Everything I saw after that brought the word back into my mind, the red of the cloth, the tint of the wine, everything. It was almost like a dream, half-remembered. I find myself looking out into the pitch black to find it, to see if it appears again, but there is only pure darkness.

        "I'm gonna go out and make some snow angels now ok, Amaljia?"

        "What? Oh, no you're not. It's eight o'clock. Look how dark it is outside. Find something else to do. Watch T.V. draw. Go to bed."

        "Ok," she gets up and gets more corn.

        "Have some toast with that. You can't live on corn alone."

        I hate shoveling the walk. I don't even know why I do it now. I guess it's so it won't freeze and I won't slip on it. The one thing I like less than shoveling the walk is slipping, it's one of my phobias. I don't mind falling, it's slipping I hate.

        Stepping down off of the white front steps I look around me for the shovel. It's not within sight so I wander around the house to see where I put it last. Unfortunately, I find it. It is leaning up against the house, right under the drain pipe. The shovel is frozen up to its ankle in ice. I try to pull it out but am afraid I'll bend the metal out of shape and never be able to use it again. I have another shovel.

        This isn't turning out to be a great Saturday. On Saturdays I like to have baths and read and sit in front of the fire and eat cheese. But I've been busy today. I had to finish reports for my boss and then I had to clean the bathroom and the kitchen and other things and now it's time to shovel the walk. The worst thing is the shovel I have to use. It's about the size of my foot. It'll take me two hours to shovel eight feet of sidewalk. And when I bend over, it strains my back.

        But I start to shovel the walk anyway. I clear the snow off of my steps, but it's such strained work and I don't want to do it so much that I take rests every few seconds. On my first rest I look up across the block to the house across the street. The place where I saw the flashing light the other night. And there, shining on the porch, a shimmering sign from God, is a large, red shovel. My rest is over so I go back to work and shovel another step. That's pretty tiring so I take another rest. It's times like this that I wished I smoked so I would have something to do during my rest. I take another look across the street at that big red shovel. I find myself almost drooling at the sight of it. I shovel off another step and then look back across the street. I look back at my shovel and then throw it in the bush.

        I cross the street making prints in the untouched snow. Hesitating at the gate of the house, I push it open and strut on up the steps. It's a really nice shovel. I would really like to use it.

        Ringing the doorbell I wait anxiously and warm my hands up by rubbing my mittens together. A while later the door opens. There is a man in his late fifties standing at the doorway in a warm vest. Hanging from his neck is what appears to be a very heavy, rectangular black box, something you would expect to see in the store of a small shop downtown forecasting the temperature and time. The box says curious in red lights.

        My eyes wander up from the box to the man's face.

        "uh, hi, I'm Amaljia Beck, from across the street, your neighbour. I was wondering if I could borrow your shovel? You see, mine's frozen."

        The sign changes to read beautiful.

        "I'll return it," I say.

        Trust?

        "It'll just be a short while. I'd really appreciate it."

        The man nods.

        "Great! thanks a lot." I reach forward and touch him on the hands, "I'll return it right away."

        Glad, says the sign.

        Saying goodbye I grab the shovel and return across the street and begin my work. It goes quickly and I warm myself up just thinking of the bath I'm going to hop into once finished.

        There is a snow angel Julie had made in the yard early this morning. One of her one armed snow angels. I stop to look at it. It's some genetic defect. She can't move her left arm in an arc. If she does she recoils it half way up and then extends it again. The result is a snow angel that has a stump for an arm. But there's something pretty about it. Something in its defect that makes it lovelier than any other angel I've ever seen. But I cease to look at it as I finish up the walk. Running across the street I put the shovel back.

        Snow begins to fall again as I come back, covering up the blemishes I've made in its beauty. But I don't care. I want to relax in that bath terribly. I can taste the sweet water in my mouth. I will make a grand dinner tonight. I am happy.

        I caught Julie coming out of the house as I came home from work that Thursday.

        "Hi!" I said to her.

        "Hi."

        "So what'd you do on your professional day, hunh?"

        She shrugged and lay down in the snow. I took a seat up on the fence.

        "Aw, come on. Tell me." She waved her arms in the snow and moved her legs. For someone with so little grace she could sure make beautiful snow angels.

        "I made snow angels all day."

        "Come on, tell me the truth."

        "I'm not lying."

        "Oh yeah? Then where're all the snow angels then?"

        "They're in Mr. Albert's yard."

        "Mr. Albert?"

        "He's the man across the street."

        "You visited him today?"

        "He came over looking for you I think. But you weren't there. He had some cookies. They were really good."

        "Tasty!" I said.

        "I think he liked my snow angel so I made a whole bunch for him in his yard."

        "Did you thank him for the cookies?"

        "Yup! I gave him my Christmas ornament." She began to sit up and as I helped her out of her snow angel she stepped aside to look at it, glistening in the sun. There lay the one-armed angel.

        "How come my arm does that?" she asked.

        "I dunno. It's hereditary I guess."

        "What's that mean?"

        "It means only people in your family can do it."

        "But you can't"

        "Yeah, well not everyone in your family can do it. It means that, say, your mother could do it, but that doesn't mean you can, or your sister can, but your children might. You might inherit it and you might not. And I guess you did. It's really weird too. Apparently it's a very, very rare condition...makes you special."

        "Good." She grinned and sat up on the fence with me. I tried to make her feel good about it. I remember her coming home from school one day crying because all the kids were teasing her about the way she did her jumping jacks. I felt very sorry for her and took her out for dinner with money I didn't have. Then later that night, in bed, I laughed a little about it, imagining her doing jumping jacks. The whole ordeal was typical of Julie. Somewhat humourous and, of course, she had forgotten completely about it the next day.

        "How was your day today?" I asked.

        "It's was ok. Same old, same old."

        "Amaljia? Can we celebrate my day off today?"

        "What do you have in mind?"

        "Could we go to a movie?"

        I hesitated, "No, I don't have enough money. I don't get paid until Friday...and I really should start saving. I'm never going to get to university at this rate."

        "Oh. Am I ever going to go to university?"

        "I don't know. I don't know how I could pay for you. Usually your parents help you pay." I mean, when dad left he was really the only source of income. Mama didn't have any money to give us. It cost me money to bury her when she died. "I can barely send myself to University now that I have to take care of you, I can't possibly see how I'm going to send you."

        "Was dad rich?"

        "I don't know. But even if he had all the money in the world he wouldn't be rich."

        "Why?"

        "'Cause he didn't have a heart."

        "Oh." He really hurt mom when he left.

        "You were barely one. The day after my eighteenth birthday, when I could legally take care of you, she passed away."

        "Oh." She looked at the snow angel on the ground, "but your just as good a mom as mom was."

        I smiled. "Yeah, but I have to be the dad, too. It's too hard."

        "I'm sorry."

        "Why?"

        "Because hard things are sad."

        "Thanks. I'm sorry too."

        "Why?"

        "'Cause I can't take you to the movie even though I really want to."

        "It's ok." We looked at the snow angel glistening in the snow for a while longer, "can I have my allowance?" she asked.

        "Why?"

        "I want to go play arcade games with Ella."

        "Ok," I said and handed her five bucks, "be back by supper."

        "I will" and she skipped down the street leaving behind her skittery footprints. I sat there on the fence for a while and then hopped down beside the snow angel.

        Reaching down I drew the rest of the arm on the angel, sort of like a prosthetic limb. It didn't look right so I rubbed it out. Julie really made vigorous snow angels, wore away the snow right down to the grass. Lying down on top of Julie's figure I made my own figure over hers. Standing up I examined my handy-work. My figure wasn't so deeply entrenched in the ground so the grass figure was completely inside my normal, white angel.

        I went inside.

        Stepping up to Mr. Albert's door I rang the doorbell. There was the sound of hustled movement inside and then the door opened with a frozen jolt. A young woman appeared at the door, a little older than I, maybe 24.

        "Hi," I said.

        "Hi," she returned the gesture. I was surprised to see her here, some strange feeling came up inside me and took over my mind. I didn't have anything to say. There was a long pause. The woman blinked.

        "Can I help you?" she asked.

        "Uh...I...uh, yeah. Is Mr. Albert home?"

        "Yeah, come on inside. I just put him to bed so I'll see if he's awake."

        Put him to bed? What was going on here? I waited in the front hall for a while, admiring the old, stained wood that covered the place. And when the woman came down the stairs in her short white skirt and shirt I realized she was a nurse. The strange feelings went away.

        "He's asleep," she said, "He usually conks out just after he's taken his his pills."

        "Oh," I said.

        "Why, did you want to borrow something?"

        "Oh, no. I just wanted to thank him for taking care of Julie the other day."

        "Oh, well you can jut pop in tomorrow and thank him yourself. I'm on my way back to the hospital now."

        "You his nurse?" I asked.

        "Yeah. I just help him around the house. Do cleaning for him sometimes. He's a great employer, bakes cookies and stuff. Never puts up a fuss." She sat down on the bench beside the door and pulled on her enormous black, leather, snow boots.

        "Can I ask what happened to him?"

        "Sure. He was in some sort of accident. I don't know. All I know is that the only way he can communicate is through that telecommmunicator on his chest. Poor guy. He's been alone for a lot of his life."

        "Hmm."

        "Yeah, that's good. All I know is that if he was a little younger, I'd be after him. He's a good man, they're hard to find." She smiled and pulling the boot came on. Finishing tying up her tremendous black snow boots she stood up to put on her coat.

        "How long's he been like that?"

        "I don't know. 'Bout fifteen years I think," she zips up the front, "Hey, have you ever had one of his cookies?"

        I shook my head and laughed, "no."

        "Wow, you should try them. They're wonderful. You should try them sometime."

        We left the house and she shut the door behind us.

        Coming home from work that day, the first day of Christmas holidays for Julie, instead of trudging up into my bath, or into my house for that matter, I walked up the step of Mr. Albert's brown house and knocked on the door. Mr. Albert answered in a white polka-dotted, red apron, his face expressionless as usual.

        Happy

        I smiled at him, "Hi, Mr. Albert, I just came by to..." He motioned me inside. I stepped into the warm house. I wondered if he had a bath, a large, bubbly, already heated one. I would love to get into it...and he could bring me cookies.

        "Amaljia!" Julie came running around the corner in her red socks and slid, crashing into me with a hug. I bent down to talk to her.

        "Hey, Julie! What'd we do today?" I looked up with a smile at Mr. Albert.

        "Lots" she said, "I did my coloring book, and we played cards and we made snow-angels"

        "Yeah, I saw them outside," I turned to look out the window, dozens of dwarfish, handi-capped snow-angels freckled the snow outside as new snow fell to fill them up.

        "Didn't you make any snow angels, Mr. Albert?" I asked.

        Worried

        Julie cut in, "He's afraid he'll short circuit his box," she was referring to the teleprompter."

        Relieved

        "What time is it?" Julie asked. I looked at my watch.

        "4:30"

        "T-J Lazer's on!" she exclaimed.

        "Alright. You can go home and watch it. Put all your stuff on...and make sure to thank Mr. Albert." She quickly slapped all her stuff on and then was out the door with a quick, "Thanks Mr. Albert."

        Pleased

        Mr. Albert turned and proceeded into the kitchen. Taking off my boots, I followed.

        "Wow, it really smells good in here!" Mr. Albert pulled some cookies out of the oven. He put them on the counter.

        "I just wanted to thank you for taking care of Julie during the holidays. I really appreciate it."

        Lonely

        Smiling, I understood. "It's hard taking care of my sister all by myself, so I appreciate it."

        Mr. Albert closed the oven and began to clean up some of the stuff on the counter.

        "I mean it's hard to look after her all the time...'cause she doesn't have a father and it's hard for me to be much of one since I never really had one either."

        Sorry

        Mr. Albert offered me a cookie. I took it and began chewing it. As the crumbs slid down my throat my body warmed from inside. They really were good.

        "What I'm trying to say is...I really appreciate it. I mean, it's good for Julie. And it gives me time to think about trying to save up for university and...well, you know. I really appreciate it." I looked around his kitchen. It was so organized, sturdy. His entire house was sturdy and organized. There was something very nice about it. My kitchen was a mess. Plus I always had the feeling the house was going to cave in on me. It wasn't an actual worry. The house was very well built and strong, it just felt like I was barely holding it up.

        Mr. Albert offered me another cookie. I took it.

        "You're real good with children, Mr. Albert. Is there a Mrs. Albert?" I asked half-jokingly.

        Remembering

        He turned away. I was worried I'd hurt him, dredged up some forgotten memory of long past. But he turned back and his sign flashed:

        Forgotten

        Putting some cookies in a bag he handed them to me. I smiled and thanked him. There was a small pause.

        "You know, I'd better get going...I've got some stuff to do, supper to make, you know."

        He nodded and followed me to the door where I put my boots on again. As I tied them up, Mr. Albert's cat jumped up onto the bench and stared at me, sniffed me out. I scratched its head.

        "What's its name?" I asked. He pointed to the tags hanging around its neck. I lifted it up and read it. 'Tin man' it said. I smiled and then stood up and opened the door.

        "Thanks again," I said and found myself outside in the snow once more.

        Julie didn't go over there the next day because, she told me the night before, Mr. Albert was going away for a few days. He was leaving today so after I got home, had a snack and some cookies, warmed up and changed clothes, I went over to his house to say goodbye.

        Knocking on the door, I waited a few moments for him to come to the door, the cold wind biting at my face. I knocked again and the door opened. The nurse was standing there.

        "Hi," she said, "come in."

        I did and my face immediately had life breathed back into it. She had a red sweater over her white nurse dress.

        "Is Mr. Albert here?"

        "Hunh? Oh, no. He left early this morning."

        "Oh, I was hoping to say goodbye."

        "Nah, that's alright, he'll be back in a few days. He just went up to his cabin. I'm looking after his cat."

        "Oh."

        "Come in," she said again and went into the kitchen. I took off my shoes and followed her. "You want some scotch?" she offered.

        "Sure," I said and sat down.

        "I never caught your name," the nurse said.

        "Amaljia."

        "Cool. My name's Sigourney." She took a sip from her glass. "You know, I really like this house. I like all the carpeting and the bookcases. It all has a warm feel to it. Nothing cold about it. I wouldn't leave this place for no cabin, nosiree." She took another sip. "I guess I'm just lucky I get to look after the place while he's gone."

        "Do you think this house gets lonely, though, when there's nobody in it?"

        "I don't know."

        "Well, some houses are nice as long as there is somebody in it, but others...well, one person can stay there and still not be alone. It's like the house is alive."

        "I bet this house stays alive even when nobody's in it. I mean, Mr. Albert has put a lot of himself into this. It's his way of expressing himself I guess. It's his way of feeling something."

        "Still, even in a house like this you'd think you'd get lonely every once and a while."

        "Especially him."

        "What do you mean?"

        "Well, I mean, after that accident he left a lot behind. His family and stuff a long time ago."

        "Were they killed?"

        "No...I wouldn't be telling you this if I thought it was just a rumor. I think it's true. He left them after the accident. I don't know if I'd be able to stay around if all my feelings were torn out of me."

        I thought about it for a moment and then agreed with her. How does one word describe all your feelings? I don't think I'd even feel like a person anymore. How can you love your family if the only way you can express it is by a cold word coming out of a box."

        "I guess he thought he was hurting them, it was almost as if he had left them anyway...so he left, thinking they'd be better off without him." He couldn't show his love to them so he probably thought he was hurting them. Maybe he thought they'd be better off without him.

        "It's sad."

        "Yeah. But maybe it turned out for the best. He seems very happy now that he's moved here, redecorating the interior and everything."

        I don't listen. In my mind I get a quick picture. I can see him packing to go, his heart breaking in two, pain oozing out of him and wanting to explode in frustration but his face is perfectly still. And I can see him look down at this box on his chest and all it's doing is flashing Crying. It's like the box is telling him what to do. I wake from it. It is not pleasant.

        There was a big pause.

        "I don't know why my dad left," I said. "He was just an asshole. Didn't like responsiblity. I don't know. I don't even remember him leaving or the weeks before he left, all I remember is the way mom changed when he did. I hated him for that...he killed her inside."

        "Hmm," there was a pause, "So you're taking care of Julie all by yourself?"

        "Yeah."

        "Oh. That's kind of harsh. Hey, but if you ever need a babysitter. I could do it for you."

        "Sure, that'd be great. I need all the help I can get," I finished my scotch. "Hey, can I see the bathroom?"

        "The bathroom?"

        "Sure. I'm really interested in bathtubs. I'd like to see what it looks like."

        "Ok." We went upstairs and looked at the bathtub. It was white with pink tiles around it, tiles all the way up the wall. You could pull the shower curtain in to be completely secluded, like a little watery cave. It was large too. He had good taste in baths.

        "He likes to take baths."

        "Me too." We looked at it for a while. "Well, I'd better get back home. Julie's havin' a friend over so I gotta make sure the house doesn't fall apart."

        "Yeah, sure," we returned downstairs. "Pop by and see me whenever."

        Saying goodbye I walked back across the street. Upon entering the door I found Julie and Ella playing video games on the Nintendo Ella had brought over, their eyes glued to the set.

        Thank god for Nintendo. This was going to be an easy night.

        I took a long bath that night. Mostly I like baths because it gives me time to think. I thought about my job and how I was going to pay for university. Then my mind drifted to Mr. Albert. He was very nice. I liked him. Though, I didn't know if it was anything more than that. Probably not. But I made myself think of him. And there was no reason why I shouldn't be attracted to him. So, maybe I do like him... If I try maybe I will.

        Bang! Bang! Julie knocked on the door. "Can Ella and I have a popsicle?"

        "Sure," I said, "But only one each."

        "Ok."

        I closed my eyes and sunk deeper into the warm bath

        There was a corner store unlike any corner store I'd ever seen before I moved here. It was stuck in the middle of a residential area, no other stores around for blocks. In fact it looked more like a house that sold stuff than it looked like a store. On its side was a fading picture of some woman in a one piece swimsuit drinking a bottle of Coca-Cola. It had been painted a long time ago, in the forties maybe. And on the side of the building there was a sign saying 'pick up a carton of Coca-Cola.'

        I did most of my shopping there. It was close and it was quaint. So it happened that that Saturday I was in there picking up cans of soup and milk and cheese when I saw Mr. Albert walk in. I came up to him and said 'hi' as he rummaged through one of the shelves.

        Happy

        "Did you just get back from your trip?" I asked. He nodded.

        "How was it?"

        Peaceful

        "That sounds great. I was just thinking, actually, about inviting you to Christmas dinner tomorrow night. I know Christmas isn't for a few days yet, but...I thought you might be interested."

        He nodded.

        "Ok, great. It'll be ready about seven o'clock, so you can drop in anytime before that. Say five?"

        He nodded. Anticipating

        "Julie's all excited about the holidays. She even made me put up the tree the other night. It's just a plastic thing but she gets so excited about it."

        Understand

        "I don't know. It's hard for me to get excited about it. I remember when I was real young we had a real one. It reached up about forty feet into the air and there was so much more on it. Also, we used to have Hanukah candles, too, because mom was Jewish."

        Beautiful

        "Yeah, I guess it was beautiful. Oh well, as much as I'd like to I can't be a kid again, right?"

        Mr. Albert shook his head. For a moment I got lost in those green eyes. There was nothing in there. No emotions. I felt sorry for him. But his box seemed happy.

        "Hmmm," I thought about it, "Well, I guess I'd better be going. I'll see you then?"

        He nodded. I went up to the counter and paid. Waving goodbye I stepped out of the store and trudged on through the snow on my way home.

        I'd bought candles for the Menorah evening and strategically placed others around the house . It really made the house feel warm. The candle gave a really orange glow off of all the hardwood and gave the rooms a closed in feeling, like the walls were hugging you. And looking outside at the cold snow only strengthened the feeling. I'd set up the table in the room just outside the living room where the tree was.

        Also, I bought some special cheeses, for cheese was a favourite food of mine. I'd bought red wine too. The colour seemed appropriate even though we were having turkey for dinner. And I'd put on my dress. The one I rarely wore for it was long and draped, and was backless. I had a nice back. It was the kind of dress I never felt could be taken out of the house. It belonged in the home, on my body and only on a night like this. It felt very right. I had just finished making a quick check on the turkey when there was heavy shuffling heard outside the house and then the doorbell rang.

        "It's Mr. Albert!" yelled Julie.

        "It's Mr. Albert!" yelled Ella, who had only heard of Mr. Albert but who was caught up in the excitement none-the-less. They ran to the door. I heard it creak open from the kitchen.

        "Wow! Where'd you get that?!" asked Julie, "Amaljia! Come here. Look at what Mr. Albert brought."

        I sashayed my way gracefully into the front hall where I met with what I saw with uncertainty and a little bit of hesitance at first. But then Mr. Albert dragged the enormous thing in and placed in down on the floor of the hallway. It was a beautiful seven foot long christmas tree.

        I smiled at him and he nodded looking at my dress.

        Lovely

        I smiled and stepping up to the door to shut it behind him I looked outside and saw the long pillowy trail the tree had made as it was dragged from Mr. Albert’s house to mine. I shut the door.

        "Let's put it up!" yelled Julie. Mr. Albert took off his jacket and mitts to reveal a very nice tuxedo. I'd wondered where he'd managed to find that. He was a man of many surprises. Nice surprises.

        They dragged the tree into the living room and set it down. Mr. Albert looked at our plastic tree.

        Pathetic

        He started to take off the decorations. Ella quickly caught on to the idea and started to help him take off the bulbs and stuff. Mr. Albert found one that had belonged to my mother. The only one that had survived Christmases with Julie setting up the tree. I don't know why my mother had it. She'd gotten it before she'd married, before she even celebrated Christmas. He stared at it a long time.

        Beautiful

        "It was my mother's," I say. He puts it away in the box and continues to strip the tree of the only dignity it has remaining until it is just a skinny, muscle-less knock-kneed boy standing there, naked and shaking. Ella and Julie took the tree and with Mr. Albert went to the back door. Opening it up they began to chant "One!" They swung it back, "Two!" they swung it back even further, "Three!!" and it flew, or I should say warbled into the air ungracefully and landed in the snow. The strong, cold wind was already starting to blow snow over it, burying it.

        I went back into the kitchen several times to prepare things and each time I came back they had progressed a little further. The stand had come up. The tree was set up. It was beginning to thaw. They had even brought some ornaments over from Mr. Alberts' house.

        I had brought some wine out for both Mr. Albert and myself and I watched and sipped on wine as I sat on the couch and watched the tree go up before me. Julie and Ella were enthralled and thrilled by the whole event. And when it was finally done, the mammoth object huddled in the corner. It sort of reminded me of mother. In her early days, elegant and decorated.

        We all stood back and admired it. The dim light seemed to slip in from outside and form a puddle on the floor. It looked as if the tree was standing in the middle of a lake. Then Mr. Albert pulled something out of his pocket and hung it on a branch. It was the cardboard Christmas ornament Julie had made in school, with the family on it and the cat. Mr Albert was right. That was the final touch that it needed.

        The oven buzzer went off and dinner was ready.

        Julie and Ella had gone to bed in front of the tree, both were trusseld up in their sleeping bags, basking in the light. Mr. Albert was standing at the front door now, his coat on and hat in his hands. We had sat at the kitchen table drinking, me talking, and listening to the radio for a while. It was about midnight now.

        "You know," I said, "You don't have to go..." A pause. He just shook his head and put on his hat. In a way I was relieved. Turning to go he waved and started down the walk. I watched him from the window as he walked across the dark street and went up into his house. Then I turned to look at Julie. She was sleeping peacefully on the floor.

        Sigourney had come over for coffee a day or two after Christmas. Mr. Albert had gone out with Julie, taken her to the wave pool or something. She had nothing to do so I invited her in for some coffee and cake. Mr. Albert had made me the cake.

        "This cake is wonderful."

        "Mr. Albert made it for us."

        "It figures. He makes you a lot of stuff. He never makes me anything. Maybe he likes you."

        "What do you mean he doesn't make you anything?"

        "Well, occasionally he'll make me a cake for a special event but he's only known you a month and you've got cake, and cookies and a Christmas tree...Is there something going on between you to?"

        "I don't know."

        "What don't you know?"

        "I like him."

        "In that way?"

        "I don't know. That's the problem. I mean, he takes care of Julie, and he's very nice and responsible. I don't know if I like him that way. I don't know if there's anything sexual in it."

        "Men like him are hard to find, honey."

        "I know. But he's older than me."

        "Now I think you're just making up excuses. Age doesn't make much difference. If I were you I'd go for him."

        "Really? Why?"

        "Well, it's obvious he likes you. And he's a great find. He takes care of Julie, he'll help you through school. Plus, he's handsome."

        "I suppose."

        "And he makes great food."

        I smiled. There was a knock at the door. I took another sip from my coffee and got up. Sigourney got up too. "That's probably him right now."

        Opening the door Julie came in and ran upstairs, taking her boots off on the way up. They bounced down the stairs. She had to go to the bathroom. Mr. Albert was standing in the doorway.

        Amused

        "How was the wave pool?"

        He nodded. His hair was frozen wet and his cheeks had that certain look of someone who had been in a hot pool and then in the cold snow.

        "Well," said Sigourney with a knowing smile, "I better be going now. I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Albert. And you've got my number Amaljia so phone me." She stepped out the door and then turned around and winked at me behind Mr. Albert's back. Then she started to walk away down the block.

        "Do you want to go for a walk?" I asked him. He nodded and I smiled. Putting on my boots and coat I yelled up to Julie, "I'm going out for a walk."

        "OK!" she yelled from within the depths of the bathroom.

        We stepped out into the sunlit snow and walked down the sidewalk. The street was empty as it always was. Not many people passed through here. It was a nice area. We could see the park just at the end of the street by the tennis court and we headed towards it. It was a nice day out and the temperature was just comfortably below zero. Not too cold or windy, it was calm.

        "I like this weather. I always liked Christmas time. We always celebrated it...even though mom was Jewish. It all seems very peaceful to me, romantic."

        Calm

        "Yeah," I said, "It is calm."

        Untroubled.

        I smiled. Stepping up to the park we began to climb the pathway that was buried under the snow. Walking past the small playground we picked a spot at the top of the hill, looking down over the small houses and sat down.

        "Julie likes to sled down this hill. We had a hill down by my house when we were little. In the winter I used to slide down it and in summer I used to ride my bike down it. I don't know, I guess I have a sort of attachment to hills. They're very peaceful. Don't you think?"

        Peaceful

        I looked at him a while, peering deep into his eyes, trying to find something. There was nothing in there.

        "It's kind of romantic up on this hill, just blanketed in snow, don't you think?" I didn't even look at his box, just into his eyes but I still couldn't find anything. Well, there was no use waiting for something to appear, so I took my hand and pulling him forward by his chin I kissed him. He didn't kiss back and when we pulled away he just looked at me for a moment.

        Surprised

        There was a long pause and then he stood up, walked a few feet and then lay down in the snow. Moving his arms and legs he began to make a snow angel, but his left arm wasn't moving right. It would sort of pull in and extend as he arced his hands...just like Julie's. He got up and sat down beside me again and we both looked at the stumpy snow-angel.

        I smiled at him and I understood. Taking his hand I rested my head on his shoulder and looked out over the hill.

        I think a little bit about him. I don't understand why it took so long for him to come back. I don't know. And do I forgive him for running off on me? I don't know. In his position I don't even know if I would come back at all. I guess is takes a lot of courage to come back and give love...especially if your not sure if you have it. I've already grown accustomed to him. I don't know what I think. I'm glad to have a dad, one I love instead of hate. Even if it is a little late. We can look after each other.

        Looking out over the hill I feel comfortable here, in the silence. If ever there was a moment in time where I belonged, it's here and now.

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