This collage is a reflection of new found friendship: our 1955 birth days are one week apart. March 21, 2021 “I just did too much,” I said to my new friend Holly, …all I had to do was return a DVD to the library three blocks away – so naturally I decided that I might as well do this other thing and then, do this, and before I knew it – I had eight things on the list…” Holly was laughing. She knew. She got it. “Then it started raining and of course, I had to get my list done…and […]
Imagine connecting to another soul whose relationship to her own husband refracted the light. The searing single violin from Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade Suite — a magic music box, once in my hand almost thirty years ago, in another’s - hearing the same, sweet sound.
I stared at the Skype screen in frustration. My mother needed my arms around her to be consoled and I was not there.
“Chicken Little and Henny Penny were off on a quest: to terrify everyone and tell them the sky was falling. Close to a year later it would seem they succeeded and everyone is indeed scared witless. As the world moves in slow motion Christmas appears to have been cancelled, adding to the general gloom. Never mind that 1.5 million people die each year of TB or that 300,000 people (mostly children) die of malaria. And some 55+ million more die annually of various and sundry causes which, on a planet with close to eight billion people, is par for the […]
December 9, 2020 I’ve come to love my mother more and deeper since this second lockdown with Covid-19 over the last eight months. Yes, absence makes the heart grow fonder – but/ and – out of sight, out of mind, no? We haven’t had the closest relationship since before I was born – if you get my drift – so the landscape of our relationship has been dotted with many boulders of …well…let’s just say, I love my mom more as time passes. However, Skype. Zoom, and Whatever’s Next are not not satisfying tools for intimate communication, following as they […]
To me the cosmological sense is that life, love, nature and reality all have second chances, with this meeting once a month, face to face in the same place when the Sun and the Moon meet.
It’s an old saw that we don’t learn from history, but the repetition of bad behaviour in the extreme during a world pandemic is unconscionable by those in power of anything.
I went to see my mother at Haro Park Center where she has lived the last 4 years, and where she survived the Covid pandemic that hit Vancouver in March 2020. It had only been a week but seeing her come towards me took my breath away. She appeared more frail. Smiling so bright, her electric neon pink suit and the hydrangeas she was walking past confused my line of vision.
“…The truths of our hearts and memories never finish running their risks,” wrote Peter Abelard to his love, Heloise in the 1100s. I look down from that flash card clipped to the lampshade on my desk as my eyes catch sight of a dusty wood carved turtle.