I go back to bed again, so tired, trying to sleep, hoping to dream of my son, or at least make the day pass faster. Firsts are never easy. First birthdays, his and mine, first Christmas, now first Mother’s Day. They tell you that, and you think you understand, but you don’t, until you live … Continue reading Mother’s Days
It seems so innocuous, the chapstick sitting on my nightstand, between the water glass and the book I’m reading. It’s not. I found it in the pocket of his work pants, when I was laundering the clothes that someone had shoved into his suitcase, cleaning out his room after he died. Every day, when I … Continue reading Living with the Memories
“Are those real Gucci sandals?” I was looking down at my son’s feet. We were in Hawaii, because the first Christmas not in our family home was too hard for my children. “Who’d be crazy enough to spend that kind of money on a pair of slides?” Carson replied. It was only years later, sorting … Continue reading If I Die Young
Lately, a song will take up residence in my head. I’m not talking an ear-worm that lasts a few hours, but ones that stay days, even weeks, always playing in the background. They aren’t happy songs. Currently it’s Hurt, not the Nine Inch Nails original but the cover of it that Johnny Cash did in … Continue reading Songs in My Head- Part 1
I’m waiting for my new passport. I’m sad to give up my last one, but there was less than 6 months left on it. The new passport is blank. No visas to China, Japan, India, Egypt. No stamps, and not sure if there will be any. Many countries do it all electronically, post-Covid, and I’m … Continue reading There is a Season
I didn’t cry this week. Oh sure, I got misty at memories, and wept a bit, especially when people offered condolences or talked about my son. But I didn’t cry. None of the sobbing, gasping, choking, can’t speak, can barely breathe, crying. None of the uncontrollable waves that would send me back to bed for … Continue reading Riding the Waves of Grief
Seven years ago today, I was on my “trip of a lifetime,” my first solo overseas trip and (I thought) one last big adventure before settling down on my well planned path to a comfortable retirement. Kowloon harbour on a water taxi. Despite having no words in each other’s language besides “thanks!” We communicated quite … Continue reading Riding the Wheel
I didn’t have a dance party on my 60th birthday. That had been the plan. Crosbie, whose standing joke was that I was his older friend (by one month!) was all for a joint party. We knew where (Moose Hall) although we hadn’t decided between the local band that did covers of 70s and 80s … Continue reading Keep on Dancing
We drive over the Malahat. They have added bright orange posts between the north and south bound lanes of this coastal mountain highway, to prevent turns on and off it in dangerous places. As we come to each of these, I remember the fatal accidents: here, two motorcyclists; there, three members of a family in … Continue reading Surrounded by My History
If you count my bra (something I never wear in Barbados) I have 5 layers of clothing on my upper body. I’m still cold. The wind cuts through me, and the damp penetrates even when I’m sheltered from the wind. Why did England in February seem like a good idea? I suppose it’s better than … Continue reading Getting Acclimatized
Brave Travels 