Just a thought… Gratitude doesn’t mean loving everything. It means recognizing what’s worth holding on to. [Carl Olsen]

What a week it’s been! I won’t even mention the absolute bone rattling cold and deluge of snow that you’ve been going through if you’re reading this in Southern Ontario or parts of the prairies; we do keep up with the weather even though “home” is BC and our current address is near Puerto Vallarta.

I check to see what the grandkids are enduring, and what my sisters see when they look our their windows in the morning. (Is this what it means to be in our sixties? The computer and phone weather apps taking the place of the weather channel that our parents constantly had, or have, on?)

It’s easier to watch the weather these days than the news, you’ll have to admit. Living through it all is painful, with the bright exception of our prime minister’s reception in Davos, Switzerland and his “if you’re not at the table, you’re on the menu” speech. In case you haven’t heard yet, only two other speakers have been given the same standing ovation earned by Mark Carney last week: Nelson Mandela and Volodymyr Zelenskyy. Some august company, to be sure, no matter what the bots, trolls and US-backed Maple Maga accounts try to say. We have every right to be proud.

It was, as I say, a happy moment in a week that was filled with despair. Another fatality at the cruel hands of ICE in Minneapolis, to name just the worst of the moments, which was then followed by a barrage of government lies making Alex Pretti somehow responsible for his own murder.

For me to be feeling sadness at the departure of my friend from our two week cocoon of closeness feels somehow, not just out of sync with the world, but downright selfish. Yet that’s how I feel as Lisa Brandt prepares to board her flight home to Hamilton after 7 pm today. (As of this writing she’s still due to go; watching the weather has taken on another more urgent purpose the last few days for reasons of her travel.)

But as we walked the dogs under the gentle glow of street lights, a half-moon and distant stars, we talked about how the moments we shared are the ones that we have to dwell on to keep going. To fight the darkness that comes, not from the setting of the sun, but from the destruction of our 250-year old neighbour to the south. Our world is changing and not for the better, but as we lean into the stoicism of changing what we can, we cling to happier memories and hope to make more of them.

And as always, we are grateful – as I am for you coming here today, my friend.

Safe travels, dear Lisa. Along with that suitcase and carry-on we lugged twice across a bridge and ramps to find our ride two weeks ago from the PVR airport, you take with you a piece of my heart, the scent of our dogs and a lot of wonderful moments. May they keep you warm as you step out of the airport in Hamilton and wave down a taxi, your blue words hanging frozen in the night air. And may the gods of travel shine down upon you, as the gods of friendship have for me.