THESE MAGIC MOMENTS

The time is 5AM. I am at the lake and have decided to take my daughter's dog for a walk. It is going to be sunny and hot today, over 30C. The lake is perfectly still and there is only one other person on the boardwalk, a jogger who quickly passes me and acknowledges me with a stiff nod of his head. I smirk to myself, "I could run faster than that at his age!" But, no more.

We have been invaded by fish flies. Thousands upon thousands. Their corpses mat the boardwalk and crunch as you walk over them. The sides of buildings are covered with them, so thick you can barely make out the colour of the paint. They fly from out of the grass, in swarms, and I start picking them off the dog, my hat, my glasses, shirt and legs.

It's a typical July day at Winnipeg Beach. I stop walking and lean on the rail of the sea wall that protects the land from the huge storms that sometimes develop. But, not today. Today, everything is perfect, still water, the horizon bearing streaks of colour, the sounds of birds and fish flies and nobody else around. This day is magical and belongs to me and the dog. I feel optimistic and content.

And then, it hits me. I have parkinson's. I have an incurable degenerative brain disease. It will only get worse. I might end up in a wheel chair, like Muhammad Ali. Wait. Maybe this year, there will be a cure.

Magic can sometimes just be an illusion.