When we were little, we lived in the country.

There were horses in our little barn, cows and farm animals across the road at my friend Brent’s house. I knew which electric fences were on at what time of day and how hay is loaded into the lofts of old fashioned barns. I knew that when my hands got cold I could find my dad’s horse and put my hands under his chest, that he would drop his huge head down and hug me into him, making me even warmer. He would steal the toque off my head by its pom-pom, trotting away from me as I laughed and shouted – he would wave it just out of my reach as I jumped and grabbed for it while he shook his head proudly until he was finished playing and would drop it as I finally reached it.

I knew how, in the winter mornings, when the sun was too eerily bright, that meant it was really cold and when I went to visit the horses they would have beards and eyelashes made of ice crystals and would breath impossibly hot, earthy air on my face when I kissed their spongy noses.

We only lived in the country like that for a few years before my parents got divorced. I was seven and, being old enough to understand what was happening, and being incredibly sensitive, I didn’t handle it well. I know that I was happy a lot of the time – but the way I dealt with it was to block everything out. From the time that I was 7 to the time that I was about 13, I only have a handful of memories. My sister can recall things that we did that we haven’t talked about since she was five or six – but unless an event has been told again and again as a family story, I probably don’t remember it.

One of the things that I do remember was that while we lived out in the country my favourite game to play with my blonde, fey little sister was Mukluks. I didn’t know what the word meant, but it sounded wild – and so the Mukluks were people living in the forest around our house. My sister and I would track through the woods finding evidence of their existence (deer trails) and be on constant guard against their kid napping attempts. There was danger at every turn! We were the last guard keeping them from the house! It was an exciting game that had us running through the woods many afternoons.

Every winter when we get past the first date with cold, when the temperature stops wildly fluctuating, and locks in at -20 C or colder, I remember when we would play those games. There was so much possibility – it felt like just by believing in Mukluks, they could materialize from behind the snowflakes at any moment.

This winter, as an early Christmas present, I received my first real pair of Mukluks. I wore them to dinner last night, and when I saw my sister she saw my new shoes and immediately laughed,”I THOUGHT THEY WERE REAL! I believed you!”

We were in one of my favourite, run down little restaurants, where the owner is a Korean PhD who knows me by name. It’s closing down next month, finally coming to an end. As I laughed with my sister I shook the pom poms around in circles, smiling. Mine look pretty real to me!

Handmade Black Mukluks, $200 CAD