I had thoughts and words and phrases and feelings and stories I wanted to share from my visit to Batoche last October. But it turns out that I kept them to myself. Normally I feel the urge to share on here and feel unsettled until I do. But this time, it was all for me. Maybe my next visit will be different.

What I loved about this trip was that I was completely alone. The parking lot was empty when I arrived. This has never happened for me before. It was just me and mom and the spirit of Batoche.

This time I will share Batoche In Pictures – no further explanation. However, there are two events I must share. Although now I can’t remember if I shared these already or not…

1. For whatever reason, this visit to Batoche, made me smoke. I just had this desire to sit in front of amm’s gravestone and smoke. So I did. It has been about a decade since I stopped smoking. But I sat on my blanket, lit up a smoke and took in a deep drag. Then I made a tobacco offering. And when I considered saving a couple of smokes for the drive home, large, fat rain drops landed on the couple of smokes I tucked aside and I laughed. And then said out loud, “Ok mom. I won’t save these ciggies.” And I broke them apart for the offering.

2. I wanted to leave flowers, as I normally do. It was Sunday so all the flower stores were closed, so my only choice was to stop at Costco on my way out of S’toon. Ok. Saskatoon Costco? Your parking lot is a frickin’ nightmare. One ways and angle parking and devils directing you. Horrible. So horribly frustrating that I almost gave up and didn’t bother going in. But something made me fight the madness and park and go inside for flowers. I chose two bouquets of flowers and while standing in line, an older gentleman from the row over came to me and commented on the beautiful flowers. (They weren’t that fabulous – just daisies and carnations.) We exchanged a few words and I noticed he was with two older women, and a third who was about my age. I considered telling him that they were going to be laid on my mother’s grave, but I always question sharing in situations like this. Once I had paid and was walking out I looked up and noticed one of the ladies who was in line with him, was now unexpectedly ahead of me, waiting. She caught my eye and said in a calm, smooth tone, quite slowly and deliberately, “Enjoy your flowers.” It made me stop. And take a moment. And reply, “Thank-you. I will.”

Batoche In Pictures

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