It was a sunny morning when I left for Montreal, driving on a busy highway. Once again the priviledge of being "aunt" and Godmother won over my instinct to just hole up with a hot chocolate in a comfy chair. So I "suffered" through a night at a smoky house on an old mattress, where the fifty-year-old heating system made the air either too cold or sweaty-hot (thankfully no children were being hurt there by second-hand smoke).

My first stop was a small church at a rural university campus, where the children attending the conservatory were giving solo recitals to show off their hard work. A small crowd was extremely pleased with the event, and my two "nieces" (in brackets because I'm not really their aunt, only an "honoris causa" one...) were excellent at the piano - I knew they had worked hard to get there, practicing every day, sometimes several times. The youngest opened the concert, and she looked so cute in her white red-polka dot dress. The older had insisted on taking a special pair of white sandals in a separate bag (the snow and the cold forced everyone to wear boots of course) and she looked like a fairy in an off-white georgette dress... Her fingers played lightly a Tarantella which she had practiced that very morning twice, slowly...

Later on we all went to a local diner, to warm up with steaming mugs of hot chocolate (extra whipped cream, please) and capuccinos...

Sunday afternoon was spent at an old church basement full to the brim with parents, aunts, and friends eager to see the annual Christmas Pageant. There were stars, and donkeys, and the little lamb kept the audience attentive while he played fascinated with a piece of string... Little demons were dressed up as angels and tried to behave their best while listening to the older angels tell the Greatest Story ever told. Mary was a perfect blonde girl that looked much too young for her role, and Joseph was really serious as the patriarch to the whole event, punching anyone who stepped out of line for too long, whispering and directing from the front of the scene. It was my youngest "niece's" (different set of nieces and nephews, same "honorary" status) first appearance, and she showed a talent for the scene unexpected at that young age: a clear voice and a stage presence that perhaps will lead to further training in the field? My "nephews" were their charming little selves, more boys than serious players, although the oldest did display a mature character and his status as the "elder son" in reciting faultlessly his lines and not playing around the scene.

By this time probably everyone that started reading this has fallen off and clicked away somewhere else. Fine with me. These are after all my memories, and perhaps will resonate with those who have their own "honorary" or real children.

Sunday had started out as a beautiful sunny day, however after church we were greeted with a couple of inches of heavy snow, and more falling down on us as we scrambled with scrapers and brooms to clean the cars off. Thankful for my new heated seat pad, I embarked on the journey back home... through the snow-covered highways, were anyone daring to go at a regular speed ended up in the ditch.  The endless caravan of Sunday drivers slowly rode on, passing ambulances, ditched cars, tow trucks and snow ploughs... and four hours later (twice the usual time) I finally made it home to a wonderful bag of Extra Spicy Doritos and just in time to tape "The Polar Express" from the Public TV broadcast.