When I would visit her when she lived in Ottawa, she would take me to parties – parties in restaurants. I felt like a celebrity, because for me it was only celebrities that partied in restaurants. The people at these parties were different too. They had foreign-sounding names and talked with accents – German and British.
I’m grateful for my sense of humor, and hope it’s always there when I need it.
It took almost 30 years, a random sentence and an impromptu visit to an old friend’s grave to make me realize what I did that day and to show me how far I’ve come.
The fire’s going, the music’s on, the finishing touches on the tree are complete. I pause, my mind wanders and I find myself turning to pen and paper to express my feelings in that moment…
A miniature face was all you could see peeping out of the blanket – two navy-blue eyes, translucent white skin and a tiny pair of pursed red lips. Mother and child seemed other-worldly; like a mirage, flickering on and off.
Whether by a human artifact which survives the centuries, or the spectacular powers of Mother Nature, we are all forever connected to the universe.
She learned to drive when she was only eight years old, riding shotgun in the passenger’s seat, her hands on the wheel while her daddy worked the pedals and shifted gears. The pickup smelled of cigarettes and beer, but she loved the bumpy ride in the forest to the old bridge…
I was blow drying my hair hoping not to pop a fuse. The light was terrible. Over the toilet, a yellowed note listed what not to flush into the septic system. I turned off the blow-dryer. I decided that I was done with it, done with hair.
He talked to me for over an hour while I shifted from foot to foot. I could have faked a trip to the washroom to get away, but my curiosity told me to stay.
Musings on the nature of giving and the criteria and emotion that drives who receives and who does not on the streets of San Luis Potosi, Mexico.