My son and I walked among the crowds at the Jean Talon market and took in the espresso laden air and the sounds of shoppers mixed with buskers singing their songs to a half attentive audience.
This season has always held a fascination for me even as it meant a return to scholastic discipline in my youth; the drier warmth peppered with a bracing wind could always be counted to wake and invigorate the senses and inspire the creative juices.
I turn to him and see him in his Halloween costume suddenly: the mental image fading as quickly as it came. I make mention of it and he reminds me his trick or treating days are long over and while I have never enjoyed his company more, part of me grieves the passage of time.
How much faster it moves as we get older.