“Party in the house” by Julia on her couch

Sunday November 18, 2018
8:41am
5 minutes
Overheard at the Fairmont Pacific Rim

I told them when you were gone I smoked your weed. This time when you are gone I’ll clean the house and have a personal party. I’ll try on all my clothes and take a photo of the good outfits. If my hair looks right. I told them when you were gone I fell asleep on the couch. That will probably happen again. No chicken wings this time since you threw away our grill. I believed you when you said it didn’t work anymore but I wished I had tried it out myself.
I told them I did not cry and I did not cry over you. I will cry this time over me and that is the beauty of you being gone. The writing songs as soon as I wake up, the sleeping on your side of the bed. The silence will be all mine. I told them when you were gone I ate ice cream and that will probably happen again too. And I’ll miss you. And I’ll wish you were coming home soon. And I’ll wish you had never left. And I’ll watch a bad movie that I wouldn’t want you to know about.

“Me time” by Sasha on the ferry to Horseshoe Bay


Sunday, August 2, 2015
10:35am
5 minutes
Facebook

He’s dancing on the porch, swaying like a willow tree, beard winding down his chest now, eyes half closed. He’s singing along to the music on the record player. He forgets about the bottle of whiskey. He forgets about Olive weeding in the garden. He’s dancing on the porch and he’s back in Havana, back in a time that’s cola in a glass bottle and his mother’s hands pulling out the knots in his hair.

“Tito?” Olive carries a basket full of string beans.