And there it was. A black patent leather Kelly bag. A single silver clasp gleamed right into my eyes as I spotted it on the shelf. I swear I could see my reflection ten feet away in that super polished cow hide. Simple. Elegant. And, mine….?
Love stories thirty years later - inspire other love stories. Here’s to the everlasting of both.
November 25, 2020 Is it possible that I am making this up? You know that l960s thing we used to say, not knowing we were apparently quoting, Zhaungzia from the 4th century BCE: “…Once upon a time, I dreamt I was a butterfly… now I do not know whether I am now a butterfly dreaming I am a man…”? And how that was the first taste of mumbo-jumbo that would lead us into the likes of, “…organized people are just too lazy to search for stuﬀ…” etc. But, here’s the thing: The relationship I had with boys when I was […]
“Fly fish tackle box”, he said, mesmerized by the same glittering light dance I was. I just looked at them -in their little cribs, one in one at a time. An array of dancing strings of color. For fishing?
“Men are better at this than women aren’t they?”
Yes,” said Raj.
Ya gotta love the l960s. I Love Lucy after school. Basketball practice after supper. Gangs of 13-year old girls picking up one and then the other girlfriend and then the third or fourth to roam the airforce base of eight streets (we thought it was gargantuan)
with maybe seventy-five PMQs (we thought the Primary Married Quarters were a town).
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.
August 9, 2020 Pipits and wagtails and maybe a song sparrow or two, breakfast from my very old bird feeder in my terrace garden around 5:30 in the mornings. It delights me to see them beak down, as they pick up, then thrust their heads up. Sometimes out of the blue – a seed will fly out of their beak grasp. That seed flying into the air reminds me of how a memory will fly into your head… also, out of the blue. Like it did, a month after Ghislaine Maxwell was rounded up for arrest in the Jeffrey Epstein […]