There are still ducks across the street. I thought ducks usually leave for the winter. But there they are, hanging out by the almost frozen creek, taking bread from the little old lady in the black coat.

It's less than a week until Christmas. I had the strangest memory the other day. When I was in grade 5, someone gave me one of those enormous candy canes, the ones that are an inch thick and a foot and a half long. I kept it in my closet up on a shelf, and every day, almost out of duty, I would slide my desk chair over to the closet, hop up and suck on it for a few minutes. By the next fall, it was half gone. It ended up getting covered in dust and lint, and I threw it away.

Just when we were getting settled into this lovely little house on Water Street... the landlord has decided to put it up for sale. We don't have the money to buy it at this point, so when I first found out, I felt like I had lost my best friend. But it's exhausting living in fear of what might happen. It might not sell. Or we might be able to afford to buy it one of these days. Or the new owners could choose to rent it and we could stay here.

I had a good cry over it, and then I felt awash with gratitude. I felt this divine peace enter my system and since then, I am enjoying every moment here. We may get kicked out in 2 months. Or we may be here next summer, walking every afternoon to the beach like we did last year. But either way, this moment is all we've got, and it's made me see again how precious it is. I've heard of people getting a terminal diagnosis and afterward, they claim they feel more alive than they ever did, taking nothing for granted. It's a little bit like that I suppose. Albeit slightly overdramatized.

In the book I finished reading a few weeks back, "The Secret Life of Bees", the Beekeeper tells the girl that in order to not get stung, you have to send the bees lots of love. In the mornings when I wake and wander out into the quiet kitchen and boil the kettle and stare out at the trees, I think about how much I adore this little house. I love it and, if I'm not mistaken, it loves me. I love the way the floors creak, I love the way the sun shines sillouettes of the venetian blinds across the wall. I love the cedars out in the back yard and the bare Chinese Elm in the front. I love the chipping stoop and the wide windows. I love the ducks and the little old lady in the black coat.

And then I send the house lots and lots of love. Maybe it will help us to stay somehow.