“She held the warm cup between her hands” by Julia on the dock Dunn Cottage in Keswick


Sunday September 17, 2012
11:01am
5 minutes
The Distant Hours
Kate Morton


When I asked you if you were feeling better, you said something under your breath and then showed me your scars as if to say that I had crossed a line. So what, I want to know how you are but I don’t want to wait around to read the obituary.
Just tell me what you need.
If a hug is not enough, fine, and if it is then let me give it to you.
I’ve chewed my pen lids so much they hurt if they accidentally scratch up against my skin.
I am in pain too.
This effects me.
It makes me think of you even when I’m sleeping and I can’t breathe because it’s usually a drowning dream and you’re the water.
Let me in.
I’m knocking on the proverbial door because it’s cold out here in the in between.
It’s cold out here in the not knowing but wanting too.
You can’t handle something of this size, I assume, as you’ve been alluding to its overwhelming nature.
I’ll minimize it. I can do that.
I’ll curl up into a ball so my love doesn’t feel like it’s attacking you.
It’s long here too, the wait, the anticipation.
I sometimes feel as though I’m almost breathing again and that’s when I see your smile—which is rare now and it needs you to do it—but remember how there are two of us?
Remember how if you go, I go, if you fall, I fall?
Your view from there is a tough one. Clouded with tears.

“She held the warm cup between her hands” by Sasha at her desk


Sunday September 17, 2012
12:02am
5 minutes
The Distant Hours
Kate Morton


She made her bed by pulling the covers over her head and then rolling out, slowly. She let herself lie on the floor for a few minutes, looking under her bed. It was very dusty. There was a box with wrapping paper and ribbons and a stack of old Vanity Fair magazines. She’d spent so much money on them when she fifteen she’d packed them up and brought them to two cities and three different apartments. She never looked at them but she couldn’t bring herself to get rid of them. It was cold on the floor. She stretched like a cat and stood up. She went over to her computer, an old desktop she’d inherited from her father when he switched companies. She Youtubed Robyn’s “Call Your Girlfriend”, a fantastic gem she saved for mornings such as this. She turned it up very loud and said a silent “I’m sorry” to her downstairs neighbours. She began to jump. She jumped to the bathroom, in fact, and continued to bop while she was on the toilet taking a pee.
You just met somebody new
And now it’s going to be me and you

She forgot that it was Friday and was suddenly delighted. She went to the kitchen and filled the kettle with water. It was a Lady Grey day. She waited, looking out the window, until the kettle whistled. She held the warm up between her hands and went back into her bedroom to play the song again.

“Parents often talk” by Sasha in Trinity Bellwoods Park


Saturday September 15, 2012
5:59pm
5 minutes
A quote by Haim Ginott
Sunbeams in the Sun Magazine


Parents often talk about the gaze of their newborn
Reaching up with tiny hands
Grasping for answers and promises and roots
Parents often talk about their kid being the tallest
The fastest
The strongest
The smartest
The best soccer goalie
The kindest to the outcast
Parents often talk about what they make for Friday night dinner
Tacos
Chicken and roasted potatoes
Chili
Ham and cheese sandwiches in the Panini press from Christmas that Mama swears she’ll use more
Parents often talk about the moment they knew they’d be parents
The rush from toe to crown
The ancient knowing the moment they held their newborn to their hearts
Parents often talk like they know what’s going on
Like someone handed them a whisperbook of the “how to’s” and the “know how’s”
Parents often have a handful of moments they’d like to forget
Screaming in the Home Depot and fantasizing about duct taping the babies mouth
Not wanting to go to school and dragging the little guy out to the car by his arm
She’s more stubborn than you are and she fights you and you yell and spit and hate it
Parents often read books that they hear about from other parents
about how to be the best parent
A Quiet Child
The Boy’s Journey
Fathers and Daughters
Raising children in the Media Age

“Parents often talk” by Julia on the dock at Dunn Cottage in Keswick


Saturday September 15, 2012
10:54am
5 minutes
quote by Haim Ginott
Sunbeams


They want to know things. First things first. The things you only dream about anyway. The things you wish you didn’t have to mention out loud. Why so coveted? A brass bed in a deserted room, cornflake trails leading to the shed where wild dreams take flight. A piece of lake, left swimming around in the brains of the innocent. Cleaning them out, washing their ideas so they sparkle and sing.
Any late night talks with God? Did you ask Him if He found my heart yet? I told Him I lost it, He said He’d get back to me.
If you talk to Him again, tell Him I’m done playing this game and I’ll give my mind to the highest bidder or to the one with the best looking back muscles.
Things. All things. Things you wish you thought of first. A love saying.
Things you wondered about over scrambled eggs and picture perfect midnight naps. Those could be dreams. Those could be realities. Sometimes it doesn’t matter if I know the difference. It feels floaty and strong at the same time, which calms me and and shoots inspiration into my thighs like an EpiPen of new and amazing.

“I can heal that” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Friday September 14, 2012
11:35pm
5 minutes
Lamb
Christopher Moore


Hushed.
Come back, Jenny. So I said some stuff you wish I hadn’t… I mean, that I shouldn’t have said. I recognize that. Sometimes I don’t even know the words that are coming out of my mouth, Jenny… I can’t help it… but I take responsibility for what… Dom is napping. He wouldn’t go down at 3pm. I didn’t know what to do… Look, just come home and we can talk about it face to face, okay? I am putting a lasagna in the oven and it’s going to be done in 45 minutes so… you have 45 minutes to get back here.

You’re all the way at your sisters? You didn’t mention that. Shit, Jenny. What do you want from me? I’m trying me best here.

I never said that!

I’m sorry. I’m sorry sorry sorry. Please just come home tonight. Dom keeps saying, “Mama” and I don’t know what to tell him. You’re not a princess, that’s not what I meant. I swear to you. I’m not going to make promises I can’t keep, Jenny. I just… I don’t want to do it like this. I’m going to get some help, I know that I’ve said that before, but I really mean it this time… I really really mean it. I was looking on Google this morning, actually. I’ll get Dom and we’ll come pick you up, okay?