The lies of Christmas. They
Christmas, whether you celebrate Christ
After I was born, my father and mother and I took the bus to Winnipeg every December for Christmas. Then, when I was four, my brother joined us and the four of us made this perilous journey. We went to my mother
My aunt Florence had a stroke and had to go into Betel, the nursing home in Gimli but, if she were still with us, there
I can’t find a suitable winter picture of my grandparent’s house so high summer will have to do.
There we are, the lot of us. I can