Roughly three years ago I trekked back to Canada in order to get my immigration and paperwork for marrying Shawn, settled. When I was there my mother brought out a little leather bound jewelry box that had seen the years. When she opened it, two delicate bands were within–one a wedding band with chains, and one an engagement ring with matching chains. She told me that they were the original rings my father proposed to her with and...

I have become stretched thin. It did not happen quickly. This was a slow thing. Life and growing old are things which–like children giggling behind oak trees in full summer–play hide n’ seek with your heart. In one moment, you see the slip of a shadow behind the trunk of the tree but you believe you have all the time in the world to go hide. In the next moment you take off to your perfect hiding spot but you’ve been...

I have a clock work heart. In the morning when I wake up, all the gears tick, spin and whirr. They turn without protest as I swing my feet out of bed and go about my morning routine. Slow and steady, spokes touch spokes, turning the great machine that is my body and brain into a slide-show of normality. I wash my face. (That looks like my mother’s if she were fat.) I brush my teeth. (That are crooked like hers but not like hers.) I...

My mother. What do I say about my mother? What can I say about her? “She was beautiful.” Of course she was. She was my  mother after all. What child who does not love their mother think their mother is anything but? Even when crows feet begin their slow, inevitable climb at the corners of their eyes. Even when their hair starts to go a little grey at the temples. “She was strong.” Any woman who gives birth to a...

Today I had a mammogram. A lot different from my first mammogram at 13 in Canada, where I had lumpy boobs and the Doctor just wanted to make sure it was natural breast development and nothing else. I had to go to a hospital then–down white hallways and across pale chilled floors. I distinctly remember the glaring white of a large hospital room; florescent lights and five or six people–one or two men– in light colored...

I love the holidays. Specifically, I love that as I am on my own I can celebrate the holidays–within budget–how I see fit. I can’t understand how celebrating in your own way, where it harms none, becomes a point of grumbling to some. Yesterday I begged Shawn to take me to the Dollar store to see if we could afford a few more decorations for Halloween/Samhain/All Hallow’s Eve. We spent less than $10 and I was able to...