by Brooke Jacqueline Saturday, December 1, 1917 Halifax, Nova Scotia A crisp winter breeze tickles my nose, teasing my hair out of my thick blonde braid. Stretched out before me lie the rows of wooden houses, and beyond them, the harbour. “Look, Ruthie, look!” Little Tom pulls on my coat sleeve, pointing toward the water. A ship glides into sight. “Ooh, that’s a big one,” I say, squeezing his little hand in acknowledgment. By my side walks Margaret, carrying baby France