Letter Home

Hey there,

Went for a hike today. Well as much as a hike as you can around here. You know Hamilton, the only stretch of wilderness is the Bruce Trail along the hill they call a mountain. But when it's all you have, short of borrowing a car and a friend to drive it to somewhere a little more...wilderness-y, you take what you can get.

When I got to the gorge, the one by the golf course, I found a spot to sit on a flat rock where I could have a snack. (I remembered the food this time.) I did what we didn't do at the Othello Tunnels, sat and listened to the water. I remembered all the fun we had. The Road Trip. The tunnels. Climbing on rocks by the roadside near Tofino. Stalking that heron at Seal Bay. And there was this pang. A deep seeded feeling in my chest that hit me with such force as to bring tears to my eyes.

Guess I really enjoyed my trip this year.

All those moments we got to spend together goofing around. Laughing. But I miss the companionable silences most of all. There were probably lots of things that we could have said, but didn't. We're the kind of people that don't need to say those things. We just know.

If I remember anything in this year of changes, I will remember you. And the water.

Miss you Dad.

Love Kim

Return of the Blogger

Postcard Story - April 2008

Words: Fatal, Pantheon, Precarious
Word Count: 149

Superman

It was a precarious peak to stand on. A harrowing drop on either side, not necessarily fatal, but it wouldn't tickle to be sure.

Below, my audience jumped up and down, hooting and hollering. I ignored their taunts and tried to concentrate on the task before me.

The pool lay beyond them, its rippling water clear to the blue tiled mosaic bottom. Suddenly, the breeze became a wind that buffeted my body, the towel tied around my neck, once comfortable, now pulling. The sweat that began as beading on my brow started to run into my eyes, blurring my vision. My target seemed much further away than before.

Then my admirers were chanting in unison and my purpose was clear. A deep breath cleared my head, steadied my nerves. An inner count of three and then I was off. Like many member of the Daredevil Pantheon, I was flying.

Life, The Universe, and Everything

Something has happened in the last few days that has made me contemplate life, the universe and everything. And no, I'm not re-reading The Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

We spend so much time wound up in our lives - work, family, friends - that occurences on the other side of the world have become mere headlines on a page. Sometimes it hardly seems like it's happening at all, only because it's not happening to you.

But it is happening. Somewhere, someone else is living their life and it's totally different from yours. Perhaps it's better. Perhaps it's worse. And you just don't know. Until it happens to you.

Life is so fragile, so precious. And, if we're not careful, we'll blink, and we'll miss it . We spend our whole childhood eager to grow up, only to get there and wish we could turn back time.

Those with whom we share our lives sometimes become like furniture - reliable and always there. But what if they weren't there? What then? Who will be a witness to our existence? To catch us when we fall and celebrate with us when we succeed?

Life is fragile and precious, and in a snap can be torn from us. I know that there are so many things out there - blogs, emails, chain letter forwards - that remind us to love and cherish one another. And normally we nod just as we're pushing the cursor towards the delete button, already thinking about the next task at hand. But I for one will be nodding, and taking the time to remember that this life is all we get on this planet. And we should make it count.

June Post Card

Words: patience, artichoke, indigenous
Word Count: 200

Virtuous

They say "patience is a virtue."

I'm not sure who they are, but obviously none of them know Austin Marshall Randolph III. Handsome, the son of rich, indulgent parents – the kind of man indigenous to the big city – Austin has the power to turn accomplished, intelligent, independent women into weak, giggling, airheads with one smile. A prolific ladies man, he's had just about every socialite in town. One date is an honour. Two dates is news worthy. Three dates and that lucky girl might as well start picking out her china pattern.

I had a third date. I dealt with the envious glares and catty comments of my rivals. I endured the cocky bastard's passionless thrusting just to quash any usurper's thoughts of trying to steal what was rightfully mine. I waited for the fourth date. Patiently.

Astrid Rosemond-Barrow got my fourth date. And my china pattern.

But I'm not mad. I'm virtuous. For I'm still waiting, patient, in the honeymoon suite, polishing my blade. I think artichokes have bigger hearts than Austin Marshall Randolph III and I intend to prove it.

After all, don’t they say “don’t get mad, get even?”

May Day Post...Poem?

Always up for a challenge, my writer's group decided that in April (since it is Poetry Month) that we would attempt such a form for our postcard challenge to be shared at our May meeting.


Words: Indifferent, document, stigma
Word Count: 47

Repeatable History

A family tradition
A stigma,
That common document
Hanging round our necks.
It shouts:
INDIFFERENT HUSBAND
And
ADULTEROUS WIFE!
Makes our heads ache,
Those questions it brings.
Convenient explanations
Mask lifetimes of pain.
Inducted are we
Into the ancestral hall of shame.