January 13, 2021 A favorite memory at 65 is my father and his older sister who were in their sixties when I remember them together most. They really loved each other, being with the other. I can’t say/won’t say Auntie Wan was like my dad’s second wife, but she and my dad Eddie – known as Tap – had an intimacy that my mother never had with her husband. The connection, the communication, the kindness they shared at the kitchen table late into night – past the pedaheh and holopches she would prepare for a Sunday dinner when we travelled […]
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 […]
“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 […]
“…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.