Monthly Archives: January 2018

Tuesday January 2, 2018

My parents insisted we thank (in writing) everyone who sent us a gift. At the time, we thought it was a miserable waste of our time. Now, I know it was an investment in the relationship between myself and the kind person who had been thoughtful enough to send a gift.

Friday January 5, 2018

My friend Deborah and I walked past a bunch of construction workers who were sitting on a sidewalk having their lunch. We were in New York—it was a narrow space and they had to move their legs to let us by. As we passed, they continued their conversation and politely ignored us. When we reached the next block, Deb turned to me, smiled and said, "Remember when?"

Sunday January 21, 2018

One year, the snow in Lynn Lake, Manitoba was perfect for snow forts. The temperature was above -15C, a rare phenomenon in this northern town. My husband took a shovel and followed Aaron, who must have been about 6, out to where there was a snow bank piled up by the grader. He dug and dug, and was so excited about his snow fort that Aaron got cold watching him and came home. He continued to dig until he realized he was alone. Then he continued to dig. The fort had become his! It must have been funny to see a grown man out there happy as a clam, full of fantasy, just being a kid in the snow.

Wednesday January 24, 2018

I hated my nose. I hated the way it turned up, and I hated the freckles on it. I hated the shape of my forehead and the back of my head was flat. I also hated my shape. Strange how you spend so much time criticizing the things you can’t change while ignoring the things you can.

Sunday January 28, 2018

I was about seven and my brother was five. We had been having one of our knock-down, drag out fights. Mom was in the basement and either ignored us or couldn’t hear just how angry the fight had become.

Our one bathroom, which had a locking door, became a refuge. If you could get in there first, you were safe. You had to slam the door to get it to lock. I ran into the bathroom, slammed the door and Alan screamed. Thinking he was just screaming with rage, I continued to shove the door shut not knowing that his finger had been caught in the door jamb. By the time I realized there was something wrong, I had seriously injured his finger. Mom rushed us to the hospital where he was given a shot and had his finger bound with gauze. It wasn’t broken, but his knuckle was severely bruised and the skin had split with the pressure. I was so sorry. Even though Alan accepted my apology, I’ve never forgotten the incident and I have never forgiven myself!