One week from today, in seven short days, we’ll wake on Christmas morning and the waiting will be over. Nope. We’ll continue to wait because that’s how we’re built. There remains on the distant horizon a treasure of something we anticipate touching one day. Waiting is part of life. We might as well get comfortable
I’m road tripping today. And listening to podcasts, sipping good coffee, thinking deep and wide thoughts, finding writing inspiration, enjoying divine conversation, and probably pulling over to the side of the road a few times to make notes. And at the end of it all I get hugs from my loves. Practically perfect in every
Gerry returns from the sea with sufficient salmon to feed us for the coming year, and the sizzling heat of the past week gives way to a gentle rain. The silence of the past few days becomes the sound of living our ordinary days. I needed the solitude and silence and protected the boundaries I
Canada is celebrating her 152nd birthday today. Save for seven years, she has been my home and native land. I’ve always been proud to call myself Canadian. We’re honoured to fly our flag today. We’ll skip the crowds in the park though. Chances are good we’ll miss the fireworks display tonight too. Summer has returned
The sky this morning is gray, and rain fell during the night. It’s still raining, I suspect, judging by the sweet scent coming in through the open door in our bedroom. It looks much like most of last month looked out there, but it is decidedly different. This particular gray morning comes on the heels
I pull a bag of fish fins and assorted parts from the freezer. I’ve been saving them since last summer when Gerry returned from his annual salmon fishing trip. We work together when my (not so) old man returns from the sea to fillet fish, tuck little packages in the freezer, and stuff some in
I have empathy for the quiet and awkward woman who carried and birthed me. It wasn’t always that way, but I understand more now. Forty weeks wasn’t enough, but it was all that we had. In losing her I learned to grieve in guilty silence the loss of something I never had. I’m an expert now. Twenty-five