August 17/20

I can’t believe it went up to 35 degrees Celsius today. I am not fond of high temperatures in summer. It always bring back feelings of loneliness and isolation. Those memories of growing up in small town Saskatchewan are hard to shed. It comes with being a child of immigrant parents. Though I never thought we were poor,we were. And we were strangers in a strange land. I remembered the starkness of our no frill lives. Though it is what I strive for now, I felt the lack that I can identify now.

It mattered then not having Christmases, birthday parties and such. It probably was because most people in town did. It mattered that I couldn’t have a bicycle or take swimming lessons. It mattered that we didn’t take vacations. Our cafe was opened every day except for Sundays all year. So we never got to go anywhere, even out of town much. No vacations. No lakes. There was Sunday School which I hated because I had no special clothes. I remembered getting feather dustered when I mutinied and refused to go.

Why am I dredging up all this shit? Because it is hot. It triggers bad memories. This morning I came across the name Natalie Goldberg. She advocates in her book Writing Down the Bones, “Write what disturbs you, what you fear, what you have not been willing to speak about. Be willing to be split open.”  That’s the way I’ve always written anyways – raw and from the heart. I have no shame.

Sept. 5/20

It’s another Saturday. It’s 16 weeks since Sheba’s left us. Though I am at ease with it now, tears still sting my eyes at the mention. It’s not a bad thing. Love does not leave with the physical body. She resides in my heart forever. It’s another Saturday. It’s not my swim day anymore. Now I swim Tuesday and Thursday mornings. It’s all the better, double the pleasure. There’s only 3-4 people in the pool at that time. Lots of space, easy to relax and enjoy. I don’t have to worry about someone grabbing my toes. I am a turtle in the water as well as out!

I have not been showing up here much lately. I fell off my writing wagaon again. It happens. Words and conversation left me. I enjoyed the silence and absence of my chatter. I enjoyed the change. I am trying to get my shit together. It’s a lifelong project. I guess that’s why I can get up every morning. There’s always something to do. There’s always something new to learn. What I am trying to learn now is how not to scroll my mornings away. These are beautiful precious hours to be spent on my life, not peeking through someone else’s. It’s a good reason to return to the keyboard – to focus on what is really important to me.

An important observation I made lately is that I no longer mind/dread the changing seasons/weather. I see that they all have their gifts. I’m reminded of the song Turn, Turn, Turn. I’m speaking, of course, through rose-coloured glasses now. It is a beautiful warm September day. Time will tell.