Welcoming us back to ourselves and one another.
Moment by moment, wave by wave.
Some Kind of WONDERful
I reminisce about the endless days of summer we cherished as children.
We were masters of balancing a busy social schedule. We would play an outdoor game called Around the House, see how high the backyard tree swing would go or have a contest of friends vs. friends at the baseball field across the lane from Mrs. Eldridge’s rugosa rose bushes.
Our curiosity would have us stop to count the spots on the back of a ladybug or look in on a tadpole or two. Perhaps, we remember so many of those moments because we were present.
Presence slowed time.
An Unplanned Gathering of Strangers
When standing in the sand on the coastline of the Atlantic Ocean, you receive a glimpse of infinity. You have no choice but to breathe it in. The healing effects are instantaneous and that is the moment infinity becomes personal.
It was a Sunday morning in late September at the end of a weekend getaway in Nova Scotia with three of my dearest friends. Just as expected, our stories and laughter were second to none. Days gone by and new revelations are always on our agenda. We are highly skilled at conjuring up new moments to add to our collection and that is exactly what we did during the hours we spent together in the cabin by the beach.
Light Through the Curtain
The morning sun shines through the semi-sheer curtain over my kitchen window, turning white into a warm apricot.
One would not normally consider a kitchen curtain as soothing, yet here I sit peacefully enjoying its glow.
I have grown to love the subtle details of nature.
I grew up in a small coastal town in Eastern Canada where nature grandly greets you the moment you step outside. When that is all you have known, it is easy to take for granted.
This is when I trade George Harrison for The Who
The beginning and the end. They are the same point of a circle.
In 2019, when I wrote the following, it was not the first time I had been here, nor would it be the last.
Coffee and pen in hand, I begin again. The sun has not yet risen on this spring day. This is why I pause and ponder on what to write next. I must be waiting for a splash of colour in the sky to inspire a witty metaphor. In this moment, I am experiencing a mere cliché. It is darkest before dawn. I do not dismiss its importance.