My childhood Sundays of white linen-clad tables abundant with food and wine; adults with kids on their laps, laughing and talking for hours are long gone. Modern life, with shopping and working available at all hours also has our families spread around the world with little time to visit.
It may be, I’m an acquired taste… maybe, I should just shut up and listen. Okay. Yet, some people try to coverup a multitude of sins by saying, “It’s just business.” However, as Scrooge was reminded, mankind is our business – nothing else.
I thrust my ticket at the volunteer and headed for the facilities, only to find that there was one single washroom at which a small line had already formed. It was big, lovely, and fully accessible—the kind with a button to open the door and another one to lock it. But it was the only one.
Students moving into residence in January are not greeted with the enthusiasm that’s offered in September; there are no welcome events or free barbeques.
The centipede always waited until I was home alone to show itself. One night I was sitting on my yoga mat on the basement floor and had a thought: What if that centipede is here somewhere? Seconds later it appeared, right on cue.
Have you ever thought about how money is created? Or how some modern banks started? Is the value of money based on something real, like gold? Would it frighten you if money was created out of thin air?
The milk spilled across the table and all over the floor. Its white stain splashed outward and became a ghostly firework there beside the toes of his shoes, which barely scraped the old hardwood floors so used to absorbing these accidents.
The war is over, but the danger still exists. A child soldier is captured, but then through ingenuity and luck, manages to survive and carry on.
Returning to a place I loved, spending time with some people I loved, and being able to tick off an item from my bucket list was a satisfying experience. Great moments in life can be as serene as sharing a good cup of coffee.
When he came to, in a tragic trick of the light, his left thigh slept numb and scarred. But this was no trick. Perhaps looking upon it was like looking upon the hilt of a broken sword – the blade snapped and lost with just a small, jagged shard jutting from the crossguard. For Paul Ledward, everything had changed.