It’s Easter and dear friend Garth, who has a lot going on in his own life right now, sent me this lovely Easter card. The little chicks on it are so cute — I love it.
It reminds me of the chicks my brother had in his room eons ago when I was a very little girl. Bob had set up a light over them to keep them warm, fed them regularly, and, if I remember correctly, contained them in a metal box. I loved them.
It was still war time and my father, probably too old to enlist and wanting to do his part volunteered as part of a local brigade of men who attempted to keep us safer in the event of an attack on our city — Montreal.
One night there was a ‘blackout’. All lights had to be off — streetlights included. My father was out with the other volunteers checking our neighbourhood. Bob had covered the bulb over his little chicks with a cloth, but apparently it was still visible from the street below.
We heard hurried steps running up the dark staircase. I was frightened, but thankfully it was only my father, who headed right for those precious little chicks. He quickly adjusted the covering so the light wouldn’t show through the window (it was cold out) and ran back down to join the other volunteers. Bob’s chicks made it through okay.
Some things never change. I still love little chicks.