An eerie whirring rises from the lake, drawing us closer. Woolly tuques pulled low over our foreheads, my husband and I shuffle down the snow-covered path toward the shore. He sees it first—thin sheets of grey ice forming over the bay. As the surface freezes, angular pieces jostle against one another, crackling in a mesmerizing drone, a brief interlude from the daily broadcast of COVID doom on TV. The winter wind stings our cheeks, and I reach for his hand. The world shifts and the ice groans. We stand on the edge—lost in a dream of thaws to come.
Karen Zey is a Canadian writer from la belle ville de Pointe-Claire, Quebec. She leads the Circle of Life Writers workshops at her community library. Website: www.karenzey.com Twitter: @zippyzey