Saturday morning and we were at our mall. It’s “ours” by virtue of being the closest one. “Ours” because for one corner or another of it, we’re there weekly. Last-minute flowers or cards at Metro. Gift wrap and bandaids and razors at dollarama. Late library books at the
“I remember the huge driveway and when you came out to play with me. We colored the entire driveway with chalk. You drew mermaids in the waves and we skinned our knuckles with the last bits of the chalk because we used it all up. Do you remember that, Mom?
Brick by brick, we’re laying it down, First floor then second, It’s life that we’ve lived, The journey we’ve built. I look over at you And you’re plumbing the line. You look over at me And I’m spreading the glue. Side by side, it’
I was pulling out of the school parking lot at a crawl. It was a good day. We were there a few minutes early, so my three younger ones took off across the playground to find their friends during the pre-bell recess that happens every morning (usually without us, because
It’s the bass note. A note on life’s score. The note we avoid, The note He employs. It’s the shouldered cross, The staggering loss, The ill got from good, The time when you stood. The prognosis grim, The broken sung hymn, The “even if” moment, The doubts