When I was a little girl, my pretty young mother used to go to parent-teacher meetings at my elementary school. To the best of my knowledge, Dad never accompanied her. Those were different times and children were primarily the mother’s responsibility. I know those meetings intimidated her: she had to quit school in her mid-teens so she could leave home and start making her way in the world and – although she later acquired her high school diploma by correspondence courses – her lack of a formal education always embarrassed her. I am sure she would have been grateful for my Dad’s company, but men didn’t ‘do’ those sorts of things back in the 60s and 70s. Continue reading “Things Mom Lost Along the Way”
My Mom has always been one of those pragmatic types who never wasted a lot of time worrying about the deeper meaning of the universe. White is white. Black is Continue reading “The Puzzle Pieces of My Mother’s Mind”
In my life, I have been a volunteer on a great number of occasions. Volunteering is either something you ‘get’ or you do not. Continue reading “Remembering to Thank the Volunteers”
When my kids were little, I used to have to label all the clothing they wore to daycare. Continue reading “Clothing Labels and Parenthood”
The older I get, the heavier become my deepest regrets. I find myself making amends now, as often as I can: I do not want to die with the added regret of words unspoken. This is a story of a woman I met recently who must have waited too long… Poetry has never been my strong suit, but I have added – at the very end – my own plea for forgiveness… Continue reading “I’m So Sorry…”
They live next door to one another.
They are both in diapers; the pull-on kind. Their families help them practice using the toilet: sometimes they get there on time; usually they don’t. Neither one makes it through the night without an accident: every morning, the family washer is filled with bedding and clothing that was soiled in the night. Continue reading “Neighbours”