The Night The Clocks Change

Emily is sitting cross legged on my bed, wearing a sweatshirt, corduroy skirt and knee sox. She has my headphones on and she's listening to a Tara Maclean cd. Her eyes are closed and she's moving softly, humming along to "Let Her Feel The Rain."

Earlier tonight we took a walk around the neighborhood to watch the last of the snow melt. There wasn't much, just isolated patches on the salt stained sidewalks, sad grey mounds around the bases of the trees. She's told me before that spring is her favorite time of year and this is her way of wishing for it to come more quickly.

Not only is the snow disappearing, but tonight is the night the clocks move forward, and that's always had special meaning for me. Tomorrow the sun won't set til almost seven, and winter will drift into the past tense. Earlier tonight when we were eating ice cream cones on the Promenade you could almost make out the spring constellations on the eastern horizon. I showed her Orion skulking down toward the western rim of the sky, ready to sleep for the summer. She laughed and kissed me with pistachio flavored lips. It's her favorite.

We strolled the neighborhood for a couple of hours, watching the stars and the snow and talking to people we met. My favorite was a family from Quebec, here for a birthday celebration. Their daughter Veronique was seven years old and she was in love with Em. The whole time we were talking they held hands and played silly rhyming games. I could tell by the look in the girl's eyes that she knew what Emily was, and it was perfectly alright with her. She'll keep that secret her whole life, til she's an elderly lady walking by the St. Lawrence river on a snowy night, remembering the time she met a real live ghost.

Emily just took off the head phones and stretched herself out on the striped cotton comforter. One leg is bent, the other is straight and she's lying on her side with her chin in her hand, looking at me with her eyes full of hope and laughter. I know where this is leading, because she knows I can't resist her in knee sox. God bless her devious little mind!