It was a bit depressing to think that I had prepared all of this so long ago. I had obviously not been very optimistic about my future prospects.

"That pleasant thought calls for a drink", I said to myself. I then poured both bottles of liquor into the wine skin, took a long swig and then slipped it back into the pack.

Satisfied that everything was in order I went back into the house and turned on the Television. I had a few hours to kill before the call that Justine had arranged to have with me after the concert. I decided to watch "It's a Wonderful Life." Strangely appropriate, I thought.

At 10:30 the telephone rang.

"Hello dear, how was the concert? He did a good job? Well, he does have a beautiful, pure voice. And everything was OK with the Robinsons? Really? I'm glad to hear that. They really do care for you a great deal you know. If it wasn't for me ... no, I just mean that my condition makes it difficult for everyone. I'm just being honest. No, I'm not depressed, not at all. I'm very happy you could go to the concert. It means a lot to me."

"Listen sweetheart, I'm tired now but I want you to know that I love you and Jeremy so much. And I want you to tell Harold that I love him too. Yes, I'm sure. He is my grandson's father. Please tell him"

"OK, well I'm going to hang up now. Goodnight. Sleep well."

I went back into my room, opened the cedar chest, and pulled out the long underwear, woolen socks and ski pants that I hadn't worn in years. Then it was back into the garage to add the ski boots, heavy parka, and tuque. I lifted the pack and slipped my arms through the straps, then carried my skis and poles out through the side door of the garage. I hesitated for a few seconds before pulling the door closed knowing that I would be locked out once the latch slipped into the strike plate. A quick tug on the door knob resulted in a loud "clunk". No turning back now.

I pulled out the wine skin and took a long drink that burned a bit more than I expected. Then I slipped my boots into the bindings and pushed down and locked the release mechanisms with my ski poles. Despite the years since I last used these skis the process was familiar and easy.

I took a few careful strides across the lawn and over to the boat launch. I wanted to be sure I didn't fall. A few more sliding steps and then I let the gentle slope pull me down to the edge of the lake.

There was about 5 inches of new snow so I knew my arms and ski poles were going to be doing as much work as my legs. That would be fine as long as I didn't push it. I was sure I could get across the lake without any problems if I went slowly. Along the opposite shore runs the M'Chigeeg Trail and from what I remember it is well travelled during the holidays. I was counting on that.

Within a few minutes I had settled into a steady pace. Slip, slide, left, right, poll ahead, push behind. It was almost hypnotic. I felt my breath beginning to form frost on my eyelashes. Such a strange sensation, squeezing the eyes shut so that the frost would melt, rivulets of water running down both cheeks but not from crying.

About every 10 minutes I took a short break; slip off the pack, several long pulls at the wine skin, lift the pack back on. After the third stop I was definitely getting light-headed.

The flat blanket of snow glistened with thousands of points of light reflected from the full moon.