PI in the sky
That last summer I was at the Lake, Tim and I saw two rainbows, and not even a week apart. The photo in the featured image was taken September 19th, 2012 at 8:17AM, and the next one barely a week later on the 24th, and both of them were doubled. It was less the four weeks before Tim died, but of course we didn’t know … Continue reading PI in the sky
Duality And The Feminine
Few places in London have more mystique, more soul, than Guest House On The Mount. The structure of this charming “boutique hotel” was at one time a Nunnery, and on the grounds remain a few remnants of that time. The terraced lawns that grace the property feature a Mary grotto hollowed from the old roots of what looked to be a toppled Mother Oak’s roots. … Continue reading Duality And The Feminine
With No particular Place to Go
Just now washing the dishes, cleaning up the last of the skanky ones, and she didn’t have to woof a word; the fastidious blond bombshell, laying beside her food bowls, and somehow I just knew. THEY were the skankiest. Yup… and after they were washed and dried I filled them up, and yes that Mom was indeedy what she wanted – CLEAN MY BOWLS BEATCH!!! … Continue reading With No particular Place to Go
What I know About Being Giddy And Free
“Be a lamp, or a lifeboat, or a ladder. Help someone’s soul heal. Walk out of your house like a shepherd.” RUMI Well Mom, certainly not every morning I dance around the apartment like a madman before work, but I was compelled by the funky sounds of one Alex Boye. He has a real funky vibe of Motown in his sound. He gives me this … Continue reading What I know About Being Giddy And Free
Orange Are My Walls
You know Mom, I’ve cared, I’ve created, I’ve loved, I’ve lost, I’ve captured moments, and said goodbye to many dreams. I’ve worked at various places, did various things, some good, some not so much. Why not just be? Find something that makes money to live off [check], find something to keep you real [check], find that place [check], sanctify the space, and live there. This … Continue reading Orange Are My Walls
An Honouring Of Love
I’ve learned that turning away from loss can eat away at your spirit, eventually slithering into every pore of your being, spreading out its sooty tendrils, and digesting you piece by piece, and leaving you empty. I’ve learned you can not pick the emotions you want to feel, for in doing so you deaden them all. Grief and loss can provide a pathway towards more … Continue reading An Honouring Of Love
Within An Old Suitcase
I have that old hard-sided suitcase of Grandmas’, and on the outside are all the old stickers from some distant trip Great Aunt Helen took. At some point I gather you got your grubby little hands on it, and decided your name needed to be included … so in your childish hand you wrote your name. The little metal label on the outside says MCBRINE, … Continue reading Within An Old Suitcase
Betwixt and Between
You know Tim, writing to you is not as easy as writing to Mom. With you, it’s this tumbling, crumbling, sadness, intermingled with happy smiles of recall, sprinkled with silence and passion. With you, it’s a entangled ball of twine that I everyday am struggling to make sense of. Life with you was a mystery wrapped up in an enigma. To be honest, I’d probably … Continue reading Betwixt and Between
Dirtbags And The Blues
Mom, god alone knows that my stubborn belief in brighter days is all I have left. Frigid cold, the world a blanket of snow, and sunshine a rare commodity, I suppose it’s those winter blues again. Since Tim died this time of year always seems to get me down. So, here goes. In a fit of boredom and itching to do something different, I ventured … Continue reading Dirtbags And The Blues
Oh Dear
Mom, did you know that American bread is far superior to Canadian bread? Well, apparently so; or atleast according to Dad and MsB. I suspect MsB was the ringleader in this, as I have been bread shopping with her, and she has a definite opinion when it comes to bread; NONE of our Canadian bread passed her poke test. So I get a call last … Continue reading Oh Dear
Entrances & Exits
Mom, there is aspect to these letters I can no longer ignore. A certain, em, almost freedom somehow. Writing to you in this manner has given me focus, and an acknowledgement of my beliefs, and of course I know you know a lot of this already. I’m not daft, but I know you watch out for us. I know when you’re around. I’ve always bared … Continue reading Entrances & Exits
The First Letter To A Dead Lover
“My dear, Find what you love and let it kill you. Let it drain you of your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness. Let it kill you and let it devour your remains. For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it’s much better to be killed by a lover. ~ Falsely yours” ― … Continue reading The First Letter To A Dead Lover
Madonna, Lawrence And I
GOD knows me and idleness are not amicable while at work. Idleness is for days off, holidays and hospital beds. See, those Calvert’s indoctrinated me as well Mom. I admit, it has taken some time, but I am aware that this work ethic that runs through me veins does in fact stem from them. I don’t have a heaping load of it, but I see … Continue reading Madonna, Lawrence And I
by PaulaB 