Auntie Flo was my Godmother. She loved me enough to say some hard things was I was a know-it-all adolescent. While I lost touch with her in my adult life, I remember her laugh, her full aproned belly labouring over a steaming stove, and if ever I over decorate for Christmas, I know she was my example. Decorations on the bathroom door knob? Yes, really! I awoke to a world turned white with snow this morning and the presence of her absence in the world was felt - cold, lonely, pure, and beautiful. Early as it is, in honour of Auntie Flo and the arrival of winter here in the North, I hung my Christmas wreaths. As the light of your life with us fades, may the flame of remembrance burn brightly and show us the way through the darkness of sorrow.