A scent of January (write of passage number thirty-five)

Younger daughter has the day off school because of mid-terms, but her voice lesson goes on as usual. So about three o'clock on one of the colder afternoons this month - which has been the majority of them - we hurry out to our bus stop.  The sun, which has been clinging to the horizon for most of the day, is smack in my eyes.

Dazzled, we find seats.  I've just got warm enough to remove my hat and gloves when a tall girl boards the bus somewhere in Lowertown. Her dark brown hair with wavy strands of gold emerge from beneath her toque and blend with the faux fur of her hood. She lowers herself into the seat ahead of me and I feel a cool halo; a frosty fragrance brushes my cheeks and forehead, before it slowly warms and fades.