Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • One of my fondest memories of all time happened one winter when I was home visiting my parents for Christmas. It was a large blue sky afternoon. The kind that only Northwestern Ontario can produce. Nothing quite like it anywhere I’ve been. On this particular afternoon Ma got a call from her sister Hazel to go over to the mall for the afternoon. Ma rarely turned down an opportunity to go for an outing. It didn’t really matter where. I sat in the orange swivel rocking chair by the picture window and watched Ma as she stood in the driveway waiting for her sister to come pick her up. The snow was crisp and clean and sparkling with diamonds. The snow banks were so high on either side of the driveway that they dwarfed Ma’s already small frame. She was wearing her gray fake fur coat. I don’t know what animal it was imitating. Her purse was draped across her chest. While she was waiting she traced the snow with the toe of her boot like a windshield wiper. Back and forth. Every now and then she would pause and look down the street for Auntie Hazel’s car. Her cheeks were blushed red from the cold air and her dark eyes were so bright and alive. I had to remind myself that she was in her seventies. She looked like a young girl. Full of life and eagerness. I will always remember her that way. And how the sight of her touched my heart with such tenderness. Little did either of us know that this intimate moment would be part of a cherished legacy to me.
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.