“Better questions to ask are” by Julia at the studio

Wednesday October 18, 2017
5:11pm
5 minutes
You Can Heal Your Life
Louise Hay

Do you love yourself

Do you love anything

Where were you when you first liked your body

Where were you the second

What’s your favourite Tom Petty song

Do you love yourself

Will you tell me if my breath is bad

Will you hold the door open for someone who has hurt you

Will you notice when to switch the towels

Will you keep my plants alive when I’m gone

Is there a food you miss because of me

Is there a good you hate because of me

Can we get sushi for dinner

Will you rub my feet

Do you love yourself

Do you know what you want

Do you want anything

Have you ever wished I was dead

Have you ever wished she didn’t break your heart

Do you love yourself

Are you happy

Do you love yourself

Are you listening to your arms

Are you good

“Why does having children” by Julia in her bed


Sunday September 3, 2017
11:49pm
5 minutes
Don’t Even Think About It: why our brains are wired to ignore climate change
George Marshall


why does having children have to be the norm anyway
what if I’m not too interested in seeing myself reflected back
oh that’s why you think people have children in the first place
so they get another stab at living
or so they have enough hands to help around the farm
tell me again how me holding someone else’s baby makes you feel
when I come home and tell you that it is so nice to be able to give them back
you know how S says that some people aren’t meant to be drivers
how if you don’t have a real interest in driving then maybe you shouldn’t be on the road and there is nothing wrong with admitting that
it’s preferable to someone who acts like they love driving but then causes several traffic accidents
that’s what it should be like for parents
or whatever you call humans who don’t want to be parents

“Back then baby it didn’t seem so strange” by Julia


Wednesday August 16, 2017
10:33pm
5 minutes
Dearly Departed
Shakey Graves


we didn’t use to ask each other anything
shuffled through the corridor with too much heart at stake to risk
we didn’t know what we didn’t know
you thought my favorite colour was blue,might have gotten away with it too if I didn’t walk right on out
it didn’t seem strange when we assumed how each other was feeling
it didn’t seem to bother us too much that all these notebooks were half-filled
now I want to know
I don’t know about you since you don’t know what you don’t know
but I want to ask every question that rolls through mush and makes it out alive
why do you tap your feet like that
why do you forget to book that flight
why do you hate your own eyes so much
why do you lie about how cold your hands get

“Does anyone have any questions” by Sasha in the bath


Sunday November 27, 2016
6:33pm
5 minutes
Overheard at BC Children’s Hospital

A: If you could be any colour what colour would you be?

B: Um, red? You?

A: Blue. Obviously.

B: Why is that obvious?

A: Because of my eyes and the colour of my sweater and jeans?

B: Oh. Right.

A: If you could be any animal, what animal would you be?

B: Hm… That’s a hard one –

A: Why, because you hate animals?

B: No. Because I’m a veterinary assistant. And I love animals.

A: Oh, right. I forgot that… So?

B: I guess a dolphin? Or a grizzly bear?

A: Those are very different animals. You have to choose one.

B: A grizzly.

A: Really? I was going to say a warthog.

B: That’s just mean.

“Does anyone have any questions” by Julia on the toilet


Sunday November 27, 2016
7:33pm
5 minutes
overheard at BC Children’s Hospital

I shoot my hand up into the air slicing though immediate sky and most expectations
WILL THERE BE A TEST ON THIS OR WHAT?
The whole room is looking at me
like they did not plan or hope for this
as if they didn’t know the test would be so brazen and surprising and at the wrong time of the day
as if they wished they had prepared for being tested on someone testing their patience and their ethics
I laugh because I don’t know, isn’t this whole thing a sham?
WE ARE PAYING SOMEBODY ELSE TO DISAPPOINT OURSELVES. ISN’T THAT RIGHT DELIA AND OR ROBERT?
Nobody is clear on what this is now
some of them think it could be a gorilla performance piece and Trey starts filming me with his Iphone 6000 and something
I’M NOT YOUR ENEMY! I’M YOUR DEEP DARK TOMORROW MORNING!
Crickets have a way of sounding like revolution

“There’s a lot of blood in your lips” by Julia at JJ Bean on Main


Thursday November 3, 2016 at JJ Bean
7:10pm
5 minutes
Overheard at JJ Bean

I sucked her bottom lip slowly like I was trying to extract a stinger without disrupting the blood vessels. I wanted to taste her. I wanted to be gentle. In the hollowed buzz between us I could tell which breath belonged to her and which didn’t. I suddenly couldn’t stand the feeling of not sharing air. What had I been doing up until this point? Had I ever considered I had been hiding my truth somewhere deep in the shame of me–that tended to burrow underneath expectations and the holy grail of perfection? Had I even lived at all? We didn’t have anywhere else to be, no other versions of ourselves to uphold. I made a promise to only stop if she asked me to.

“the reconnection of a couple” by Julia at her dining table


Wednesday August 17, 2016
10:31pm
5 minutes
roommagazine.com

He had been gone for a long time. I think he was fishing with his new wife, Amber. I hadn’t seen him after he left my mother with a hospital bill and a bag of rotting carrots in the fridge. I hoped he and Amber caught all the fish they could carry.

I was mad because of what he did to my mom. I mean even to this day it’s weird to say “did to” as if he did himself to her. He behaved himself to her. He was himself to her seems more accurate. I was mad because he would be so capable of disappointing someone who loved him that much.

I found out this year that my mother was horrible to him too. I didn’t know that before. I guess I needed someone to blame but I needed someone to stay more. I guess I chose wrong.

That’s when he called. He heard my mom wasn’t going to make it and he came home. He came back to what home used to be. He didn’t bring Amber. I respected him more for that. He didn’t bring any fish. I thought that was kind of rude.

“demonstrate power and courage” by Julia at her dining table


Tuesday August 16, 2016
10:18pm
5 minutes
jinxiboo.com

I couldn’t say goodbye because I was worried about what that might have meant for him. What if he didn’t know how not to take things personally? What if he thought it meant I wasn’t willing to be there for him; to drop my life and commitments to be his witness. I said I was sorry. I learned that that’s the best thing you can say. I said I felt for him. I said I loved him. But I couldn’t say goodbye even though I wanted to go. At what point do you interrupt someone who’s grieving to go get yourself a sandwich? At what point is it a good point to make the point that you haven’t said anything aside from the things you’ve already said? I suppose they teach others how to demonstrate power and courage, how to own space, how to claim what is owed, how to say things without offending people because of intentions or something. I didn’t want to hurt him. Isn’t that a good thing? But there comes a moment in every missed goodbye where you stop fully listening anyway and I guess I’m wondering now: doesn’t that hurt maybe even more?

“level of trust” by Julia on her couch 


Monday August 15, 2016
9:16pm
5 minutes
Adbusters
Oct 2016 issue


I can’t stop reaching out of my skin and into your kindness
I destroy everything I touch
I want to touch you all over
Tell me again how it is that you’ve chosen me
Don’t tell me about my face
Don’t tell me about my hips
Don’t tell me that you wished for this when you were younger
How we were meant to be
I don’t care for lies anymore
Not mine
Not yours
And I can smell them
You are not a magician
None of us are.
Tell
Me
The
Truth
If you can bear to ask yourself
All the hard questions
The way I’ve been begging you to
What is it that you see that you need so desperately
Surely not the hole in your stomach I’ve chewed
Surely not the bad days bad nights bad luck bad timing
I do not cast a hook in you
You’re free to swim wild
I don’t want to hear anything
That does not sound
like it’s been dying to come out

“behind your kiss” by Julia at Starbucks


Wednesday July 6, 2016 at Starbucks
7:05am
5 minutes
When I touch you; Peter Ilyanov
Diana Brebner


Behind your kiss I can feel
the thing you’re trying desperately
not to ask me.
Did you do it?
Would you do it?
Do you still love me?
Am I enough for you now
that you’re bigger
than you used to be?
Don’t ask don’t tell;
maybe something I taught you,
maybe something you taught me.
But your lips leak your secret,
parting the seas
every open close pucker and smack.
Each breath
you take
parts the seas for the truth
to spill
out
into
my
mouth,
drowning me,
or begging me to swim.
I watch you sometimes
from behind my eyes,
searching for meaning
and a reason.
Do I need to answer everything
for you?
Have you never looked
inside yourself
for something you need?
Will you ever be enough
for you?
Your tongue licks and flicks
all the possibilities of honesty
to the roof
of
my
mouth.
Behind your kiss,
there is a flood coming.
Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies;
maybe something you taught me,
maybe something I taught you.

“a signal he was about to shut down.” by Julia on the 9


Thursday May 12, 2016
10:48pm
5 minutes
Bolt
Russell Wangersky


I remember asking him if he wanted to sleep over–it might have been the third or fourth time. We had just gotten home from a nice dinner, I had just peed myself in the laundry room and was cleaning it up with dryer lint while he waited for me upstairs in my room, you know, just a casual Friday night, and I thought he was going to say yes this time. I was cautious, I made sure the moment was right, made sure I was feeling his vibe, and then boom: another no. I assumed naturally, as one does, that it was either because he could smell remnants of secret urine off my legs (though I had washed them well enough in the bathroom sink before returning to my room), or that he was about to break up with me.

“your field of experience” by Julia at her dining table


Saturday, March 26, 2016
5:05pm
5 minutes
http://www.mysticmamma.com/

It’s taking all of Sylvia’s strength not to snip her eyelid skin just to see…
Just to know what it’s like to have a hole to look through when her eyes are closed.
She traces the smoothest part of her face and gathers a fold in the middle with her thumb and forefinger.
She is overcome with an urge so big it starts talking to her..
Nobody cares about the girl with two normal eyelids… ….. …..
Nobody talks about the girl who doesn’t take any risks..
Nobody wonders why the girl without scars has no scars… ……………………………
Sylvia is convinced after the third or fifth hour of debating-daydreaming-conjuring up responses, that it probably wouldn’t hurt much anyway..
She envisions the incision healing quickly.
Assuming it must be pretty resilient skin if it has never been ripped in all her years alive and reckless on this planet….

So far…

“I can never escape” by Julia on Amanda’s floor


Thursday, January 7, 2016
1:25am
5 minutes
The Reaper
Dan Fraser


There was a time I wouldn’t have thought to ask questions. I had questions. I had a lot of them. But in my history there was a time where I wasn’t comfortable giving them a voice out of fear that they might betray me; reveal me for the inposter I was, or the shaman, or the child. I couldn’t have anyone knowing what truly went on in my mind–I wasn’t about to give away a map to my soul and all my secret feelings. So I stayed quiet but I wrote them all out thinking no one would ever find them or be able to read them if I wrote messily enough. I couldn’t risk someone using them against me…but I guess I couldn’t hide myself from myself because looking back on those protected journals, all I see is the same curious heart I was then. And I’m still asking those same questions.

“is your weapon” by Julia at her desk


Saturday November 7, 2015
11:45pm
5 minutes
from the back cover of Watchdogs

Is your weapon silence or is it force?
I’m asking cause I need to know.
I’m taking a survey.
Which one works better for you?
Are you using it at all?
Are you using your weapon for good or for evil?
You can decide what it is, at any point.
I’d recommend earlier than later.
But what do I know.
I’m just taking a survey.
Is your weapon strength or is it pain?
I’m asking cause I need to know.
I’m looking for the best answer.
Which one keeps the monsters at bay and which one keeps the good out?
It’s possible to keep the good out.
Some weapons only hurt ourselves.
Some weapons only become available after we need them.
You can decide when you’ll use it.
I’d recommend now or never.
But what do I know.

“I wish to offer him no honour” by Julia on her bed


Thursday, August 20, 2015
11:19pm
5 minutes
from a tweet by the Globe and Mail

I have been wondering if I will ever leave this place. It does not feel like home (never did), and it is starting to weigh heavy on my heart. It sounds like an easy decision but it is not. Nothing is an easy decision for me. I am used to making bad decisions. Maybe staying here this long is one of them. Maybe I am trying to justify something. I think it is hard because I do not know what I want instead. I do not know where is better than here. So I must stay here until I know where there is. Must I not? It does not sound very adventurous of me (well aware of that), but does it not make sense?
I cannot decide this with the help of anyone else. I am torn in two but I am the only one who can mend the halves and make them whole. I am learning here. It sounds as if I am not but I am.

“Why do we do that?” By Sasha on the Spadina Streetcar


Thursday, August 13, 2015
11:24pm
5 minutes
Overheard on the Spadina streetcar

Do you feel lost without your cellphone?
Literally?
Figuratively?
Do you long for the weight of it in your hand, your pocket, your purse, like you might long for a lover or a brownie?
Do you crave to look at it, to check it, to search with it, to move with it?
When do you put it down? Turn it off? Let it go?
Never?
Ever?
Do you shut it down when you shut down? Do you let it rest?
When do you say good morning?
Is it the first thing you look at? Speak to? Connect with?
One new Facebook friend, three new “Likes”, seven Twitter followers, two re-tweets, a text, five emails, a voicemail.
“Hi, it’s Dad. Just calling to say it was so good to see you and I love you.”
“Hey, it’s me. When are you coming over? Do you need dinner?”
“Hi! I heard you’re in town! Welcome back home! Wanna get coffee?”
A voice.
How does it work? No wires, waves, maybe, sound waves, web waves, waves like the ocean but in the sky, searching, searching, searching.
Touch screen, touch fingers, touch bellies.

“that’d be a mess” By Julia on her patio


Monday, July 13, 2015
7:10pm
5 minutes
In The Boom Boom Room
David Rabe


I’m thinking about what I’ll make you for dinner when I see you again.
See, I’m debating between ribs and chicken cause you really liked them both the last time. Maybe I’ll make you both with the special sauce and the arugula salad. You went crazy for the arugula salad. Or the chili shrimp. I could make you the chili shrimp. I want it to be special. Seeing you again after all this time, I mean, It has to be special right? It can’t just be thrown together. It has to be thought out. What a mess it’d be if I made all the dishes you liked but not well because there was a lack of focus. I tend to focus poorly when there’s more than one thing to focus on. I’m thinking about seeing you again, and kissing you again, and cooking for you again, and that’s very hard for me. It’s very hard not to let my mind wander. My mind’s a mess. You know it feels especially cluttered these days. Need someone to go in and do a spring cleaning, get all the cobwebs down, reorganize all the big issues so I don’t have to trip over them just to get to the good ideas.

“nasal congestion” by Julia at Grange Park


Friday, June 26, 2015
5:45pm
5 minutes
NETI: Healing Secrets of Yoga and Ayurveda

I can hear her blow her nose through the wall. Thin ass walls, the realtor conveniently forgot to mention. My husband’s obsessed with her. Whenever he hears her go out onto her patio he somehow gets struck with an urgent need for”fresh air”. He goes out there so he can ogle her and imagine what colour her underwear is. He thinks he’s being so slick but I know what he’s doing. He just assumes I’m none the wiser because I don’t say anything. I guess I don’t quite know how I feel about it. Do I care? Do I even mind? When he goes outside for his fantasy time, I have the house to myself and I forget about him completely. It doesn’t even bother me when he goes out because that alone time feels so good. It’s when he comes back in I can’t stand: adjusting himself and quickly thinking of something to say that will convince him, and he thinks me, that he wasn’t just outside wishing he could stay there.

“Foul language” by Julia on her couch


Sunday, June 14, 2015
6:52pm
5 minutes
overheard at Kits Beach

Am I out of control?
That’s a line that took me over one whole minute to craft. I wrote “Am I” without even knowing I was doing it. That one’s the easy one. It’s narrowing down the second part that’s really work. I thought for a whole minute before I wrote “out of control”. I don’t know why that took so long. Why it felt that precious. I couldn’t just outright ask. It needed some dancing around the subject first. It needed some profound introspection. A) because I needed to make sure I really wanted to ask it. And B) because I needed to make sure I wanted to hear the answer.

“Are you free” by Julia on the 47 going north


Tuesday, April 7, 2015
11:57pm
5 minutes
From a text message

Are you free of your anger and your blame? Or do you curse at the passing bus who forgot to show you compassion and pick you up even though you were waiting just two feet too wrong to board? Are you free of your expectations and your disappointment? Or do you wonder why some people operate on a different level than you do? I’m a bit of Column A, little of Column B. I ask these questions because I’m half hoping you’ll say no and half hoping to hear you say yes. Solidarity. For one. And inspiration for two. Cause I’m not there yet. Cause I really want to be but I don’t know how to to find it. Are they already inside? The releasing agents? The ones that set my mind and heart and soul free of all their burdens? For this one I hope you say yes yes yes so I can stop with these excuses.

“landed immigrants” by Julia on her couch


Friday March 13, 2015
6:39pm
5 minutes
from http://www.banffmediafestival.com

Touch down acquaint orient
Reorient
Find the water
Where’s the water?
Friendly Sir
Morning coffee spill parade
Left then left then left then straight
Breathe in this city
Ask all the hard questions
Where am I going?
Why am I going there?
Fear leads and buries
Don’t follow blind
Don’t assume
Ask all the hard questions
Can you help me?
Can you show me?
South then east then south then east
Home now, a strange word
Invented
Reinvented
Depending on the day
The time
The hour

“2 hours or longer” by Julia on the plane


Tuesday January 27, 2015
12:30pm
5 minutes
the Air Canada cafe booklet

Saw him standing by the vending machine. He was biting the inside of his top lip again. There’s a little flap of skin that he likes to chew when he’s focused. His fingers were in his pockets fiddling with a twist-tie or a beer cap. I didn’t see in his pockets but that’s the stuff that’s usually in there. I was already late to meet him but I stood where I was, watching him from my hiding place,and wondering if this was the real him. Alone. Unknowingly being spied on. I could have stood there for 2 hours or longer, just making assumptions and being deeply curious about this human. It made me question if anyone really knows anyone at all. If everyone has a secret self that even we don’t know about..

“Missing a beautiful sunset” by Sasha at The Angel’s Nest on Salt Spring Island


Saturday October 11, 2014
11:35pm
5 minutes
from Julia’s notebook

Please answer the following questions and return them to me at your earliest convenience. Thanx.
Do you hold tension in your jaw?
Do you clench your teeth?
Do you drink enough water?
Do you eat too much sugar?
What are your thoughts on Yerba Mate?
Do you smoke?
Are you breathing all the way to your anus?
Are you having enough sex?
Do you pop your pimples?
Are you scared of the forest at night?
Are you lonely?
Do you steal?
Have you called your oldest friend on her birthday?
Are you making enough money?
Why do you make what you make?
Do enough people know who you are?
Are you good at what you do?
Are you on the right path?
Are you on any path?
Is there a path?
How much does the book you need most cost?
Are you spiritual?
Are you partial to pens or pencils?
Sunset?
Sunrise?
Black?
White?
Lace?
Is there a flagpole you could raise a flag on?
What would your flag say?

“Let’s be honest.” by Julia in her hostel in Firenze


Tuesday September 23, 2014
8:12pm
5 minutes
Ecoholic
Adria Vasil


Let’s be honest? Yeah, let’s be honest. I’ve been hallucinating you, babe, on the backs of other women. Wanna get real honest? I STOLE THAT LINE FROM A REGINA SPEKTOR SONG BUT IT’S POIGNANT AND I LOVE IT. A little more honest. Yeah? More honesty. Yeah. YEAH. I haven’t been able to help myself when it comes to finishing full packs of sour gummy worms at least once a day. I haven’t been able to sleep because I miss feeling your skin. It makes me cry. I cry instead of sleep. I’m crying now. How honest do you want me? I’m thinking about sending you letters but it costs too much. I’m thinking about writing a novel based on the smell of your mouth. I don’t know why but it drags me to a place where I can only breathe in blues and browns.

“Questions about living” by Julia in the oZu Theatre


Thursday September 18, 2014
12:49pm
5 minutes
a Word document

Oh those are the big ones and the best ones and the hard ones and the important ones. Those ones that keep you up at night… “When will my mind grow an extra pair of hands?” “When will my soul sprout wings and soar?” “When will true silence stop breaking my heart?” “When will the truth stop stirring my spirit?”
Those ones with the capital W and the agonizing honesty. Those ones with the empty lined paper begging to be filled. Those ones with the armour melting at the seams.

“The Psych Ward” by Julia at the Winnipeg Fringe Tent


Sunday, July 20, 2014
5:08pm
5 minutes
from a Winnipeg Fringe Festival Program


I didn’t say no. I didn’t say yes. But the whole time I knew. The answer was clear.
Where did you go? Why did you leave? You’re here now. I see you. I’m happy you’re back.
I didn’t say hello. I didn’t say goodbye. But the whole time I knew. The answer was clear.
What can I do? What can I say? I’m here now. I see you. I’m with you once again.
I didn’t say I’m sorry. I didn’t say I wasn’t. But the whole time I knew. The answer was clear.
Which way is up? Which way is down? You’re here now. You see me. We’re together for a while.
I didn’t say baby. I didn’t say friend. But the whole time I knew. The answer was clear.
When can you take me? Where can we hide? We’re here now. We see it. We’re a we like we were.
I didn’t say stay. I didn’t say go. But the whole time I knew. The answer was clear.
Where did you go? Why did you leave? You’re here now. I see you. I’m happy. You’re back.
I didn’t say please. I didn’t say thank you. But the whole time I knew. The answer was clear.
We’re not through, yet, are we? We’re not just July? I’m here now. You see me. With you once again.

“Do you have what it takes” by Julia at Gertrude Park


Sunday June 22, 2014
2:48pm
5 minutes
from an email

This was something I’d asked myself already today. Already this morning, and again this afternoon, if I’m being honest. I’m trying to be honest, I guess that’s the whole point in asking that same question over and over again. DO YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES? And when I answer I look myself right in the eye (you know mirrors were invented for self-motivation? Look it up, I swear) and I answer, in that moment, in that second, YES, NO, or DAMN STRAIGHT. Sometimes, being honest is the hardest thing because you have to look deep inside yourself and assess every single thing that’s going on with you, that makes you feel good, that makes you feel bad, and really truly dissect if you’re happy, and willing, and ready, and able. You know? Like all of those things have to add up to the proper sum and if they don’t, well, hey, at least you know the truth. At least you’re not faking it for anyone else and the lie that you tell will come back to bite you in the dreams. I know this from experience. I live out my truths while I’m awake, so I don’t have to deal with the lies I tell myself when I’m asleep. It’s worked, so far, and that’s why I ask the question. It’s not even specific. I just know in every moment, every second, what it is I’m wondering about and if I have what it takes to do it.

“REDIRECTION” by Julia at her desk


Tuesday November 26, 2013
11:41pm
5 minutes
The front of the bill from Rogers

A little misdirection, a little action. Yeah. Yeah. Grant me the serenity to…yeah. yeah. When did it become so hard? To hardly exist. To hardly be anything but a regret. A little redirection, a little reaction. Yeah. Yeah. On this day you will be alive and…yeah. yeah. Where did all the pretty colours go? To blend in with the nothingness and be the fear it tried to avoid. A little direction, a little inaction. Yeah. Yeah. Peace before pieces before peace…yeah. yeah. Why must I be without the essentials 98% of the time? To fall on my knees with the wind’s whisper in my ear telling me to land softly, or else. A little redirection please, a little action? Yeah? Yeah. A little yeah. Yeah. A little.

“Was it good or was it evil?” by Julia on her couch


Sunday March 2, 2013
10:34pm
5 minutes
East Of Eden


I didn’t know I had it in me to turn a blind eye to someone in need until I did it without thinking and never looked back. I always considered myself a good person. A generous person. Kind, even. I don’t know what gave me that idea. Perhaps I was slow to lose my temper, or because I was bullied in primary school. Maybe because I didn’t have the voice attached to my anger when I was young, and I would have said some nasty things if my tongue were free then and unabashed. I know now that I am not a nice person. I like the people I like. I love the people I love. But I don’t care one way or the other about someone who isn’t in the room. I don’t miss anyone. Not even my mother. I don’t even think about her to be honest. I don’t think about anyone. If a small child were on the street, wandering around with tears in their eyes because they had lost a mitten and their hands were freezing, I would probably stop, certainly, but only to first look around to see if anyone else was also stopping. I wouldn’t remain there long. Only long enough to make sure that I could go on my way without feeling guilty. That’s not quite nice, is it? It’s not quite good. It’s the opposite. I thought I used to be good. But quiet and good are not the same thing. Shy and good do not quite equate. Just because someone doesn’t open their mouth to scream profanities doesn’t mean they don’t think them over and over and over again.

“What made us drift away?” by Julia on her bed


Thursday January 24, 2013
12:46am
5 minutes
The 100-Mile Diet
Alisa Smith and J.B. MacKinnon


Was it the smell of the ocean, calling to us from across the world?
The vacation we said we’d always take and never did?
The holes in his socks that he just wouldn’t fix?
The way she cocked her head to the side when she talked about poetry?
These questions don’t need question marks. They are the reasons. They are the things we couldn’t do right.

A million times over, and the bed was still cold, the money was still tight, and the bread was still stale.
But she asks again and again. She asks herself, she asks him. She’s dying to know. She’s desperate for the answer.
“What made us drift away?”

She shuffles through the house, inspecting it the way her mother and law never bothered to. She would get up early on Sundays just to tidy it for her before brunch and that damn woman never seemed to notice, or care, or either.
She ruffles through old photo albums, trying to detect the distinct possibility that it was there all along; the proof was in the pudding; that she herself was to blame, if no one else would step up.

Was it the wretched winters that kept us from kissing when we entered the house?
The smell of garlic lingering in the air and dampening our mood after dinner?
The salt stains on his dress pants from not being too careful?
The way she never forgave him for forgetting her birthday?