A Ginger Ale Guelph
One year, Mom and I drove down to Guelph for Christmas. My second eldest sister, Diana, was a mother-hen of sorts at her university residence and had managed to have a suite and access to the empty buildings over the holidays. That year, many people visited to celebrate. Being the youngest, I had very little in common with the others. And after attempts at inclusion, I chose to exclude myself. I nabbed all the “Champagne of Ginger Ales,” found a common area with a couch and television (which displayed endless channels of white noise) and proceeded to do what I enjoyed. On road trips, I always pack scissors, needles, and thread. I’m glad I did this time! In solitude, I...
