Clip check…
Then something happened…
Almost without noticing,
he seemed to find a rhythm with the paddle…
The blades cut the water without splashing,
and with each stroke he felt the power of the Sea beneath him—
beneath him,
not against him…
Faster and faster he went —
and suddenly the skinboat gave a surge,
and he was skimming over the waves,
as fast and free as a seabird…
— in Spirit Walker by Michelle Paver
Sunday afternoon,
across from the Rog,
I was cruising Costco,
for baguettes,
and the research,
which finds me…
And as I looked up,
from the boxes,
of women’s hipster briefs,
and a search,
for just my right size,
I bore witness,
to a recipe,
for disaster…
A husband approached his wife,
and two babies perched in the shopping cart,
for a scene,
right out,
of armageddon…
I saw every tone,
like anyone else,
who was paying attention,
in a ten mile radius,
and it gave me a case,
of flashbacks,
and hives…
What’s that for???
It’s to keep in the car,
for emergencies…
I don’t want that in the car…
It’s in case one of the kids gets a cut…
If one of the kids gets a cut,
they’re going to need a hospital,
not a couple of band-aids,
which is all you’re going to find in there…
Put it back…
Mr. Planningahead stood there,
like a dead 9 volt battery,
as I watched to see what he would do…
Me cheering,
from the aisle,
of ladies undergarments,
for a touchdown…
But my support,
did not reach his peripheral vision,
so he gave in,
gave up,
and left his balls,
over in summer accessories,
with the rejected,
first aid kit…
The next time I looked up,
he was standing,
three feet away from me,
browsing through the math,
workbooks,
for Kindergarten,
and Grade One,
while taking a break,
from the chaining,
as she turned,
into frozen food…
I considered throwing out a line,
about bandages,
and the hot checklist,
but chose,
to stay,
in my own department,
and push on,
into double-smoked cheddar,
and jalapeno jack…
The evening prior,
I sat on my porch,
with an old friend,
who’d dropped by,
on her bike,
like it was the good old days…
We reminisced,
about how my front door,
once revolved,
and how I’d put a stop to it…
I told her that she and her two daughters,
were the last people to drop by,
seven months ago..
What I didn’t reveal,
was that,
after the three of them had left,
Starshine said,
Mama,
I’m exhausted…
I don’t want us to be in the business,
of running,
a walk-in clinic…
I need my space…
Or how I listened,
when someone once told me,
what I already knew,
A home for your children,
should be like a womb…
A sanctuary,
in which to find refuge,
from the outside world…
And when your children,
tell you,
with their words,
and actions,
things like,
Thank you…
Our home,
is my safe place,
then you know,
that despite,
all of the struggles,
and the obstacles,
you’ve completed,
what needed to be done,
even if you didn’t know it,
from your own experience…
Just after puck-drop,
in Game 2,
of the Canucks vs. the Preds,
a stranger walked past my house,
in a steady stream of traffic,
and said,
over his shoulder,
Are you watching the game???
Clearly,
at the time,
I wasn’t…
But I got the message,
and high-tailed it inside,
to remind my team,
that even when it doesn’t feel like it,
in this story,
time,
is on our side…
Licking cookie dough,
from her sticky fingers,
Little Gem just told me,
Mama,
it only takes eight minutes,
for the light from the sun,
to get to the earth…
I learned that a long time ago,
but I thought it was something,
you should know,
right now…
Twin flame…
The breeze fell to nothing,
and the water became as polished as a smooth slate…
The only sounds were the suck and slap of wavelets,
and a duck nibbling seaweed in the shallows…
The sun sunk lower…
The duck spread its wings and flew off…
Dusk came on— although as it was the middle of the Moon of No Dark,
night would be merely a brief interval of deep blue twilight…
Still Torak waited…
— in Spirit Walker by Michelle Paver
The other evening,
as Starshine,
Little Gem,
and I made our way,
along the seawall,
through a twist of sun,
and misty rainfall,
a double rainbow filled,
the eastward sky…
The streets were deserted,
as a stadium filled itself,
with baited breath,
and towel power…
Minutes after seven p.m.,
Pacific Standard Time,
cheers rang out,
of condominiums,
along False Creek,
and we knew,
that justice,
was being served,
with the slam of a gavel…
It wasn’t until three,
and one half hours later,
that we learned,
it was Alexandre Burrows,
who put his signature,
to the paperwork,
with the guiding hand,
of his buddy,
Luc Bourdon,
and friends,
in over time…
Those one hundred,
and twenty minutes,
we sat across the water,
from the Rog,
under the big top,
were full of acrobatics,
and 49 spirited,
male horses…
If one woman,
has the nerve,
to cycle seven,
white Arab chargers,
around the ring,
with body language,
just imagine,
what another can do,
from a distance,
with not a scroll down,
on an IPhone,
but the twitch,
of an eye…
Yesterday,
I topped up the water,
for all of those horses,
who were spending,
the night,
in the stars…
And as I stood,
at centre paddock,
flooded with afternoon sun,
waiting for pressure,
to draw up,
from the well,
and spill into,
the barrels,
I put my hands up,
and surrendered…
Sleeping beauty…
The verbal rendition of emotional material thus demands a different transmutation…
And so people must strain to force a strong feeling into the straight jacket of verbal expression…
Often,
as emotionality rises,
so do sputtering,
gesticulation,
and mute frustration…
Poetry,
a bridge between the neocortical and limbic brains,
is simultaneously improbable,
and powerful…
— in A General Theory of Love by medical doctors Lewis, Amini, and Lannon
Yesterday afternoon,
a few minutes before puck drop,
at the United Centre,
Little Gem curled up beside me,
and asked,
Mama,
What do you think your life would be like,
if you were a twin???
I answered,
by saying,
I am a twin,
separated at birth…
And because of that,
and other things,
my life is both interesting,
and unusual…
She sat quietly,
as a few minutes passed,
through two national anthems,
and then she whispered,
Oh,
at first I didn’t know what you meant,
but then I got it…
I went to find some take-out,
in between the first and second period…
I got in my big red car,
and drove south,
up Commercial Drive…
I was looking for something,
but I didn’t know exactly what,
until I saw a place,
I hadn’t been before…
I rounded the block,
in search of parking,
finding a free,
one hour spot,
beside Continental Coffee…
When I crossed the street,
and entered the restaurant,
the staff were sitting altogether,
for an evening meal,
watching the hockey game,
on a flat screen…
The owner told me,
We go with the flow…
If something is going on out there,
we put it on in here,
for our customers…
Our customers,
are family…
Sit down,
and have a bite…
See if you like…
This food,
from my homeland,
is not on the menu…
I sat down,
and I liked,
a lot…
While I waited for my order,
we talked some shop…
I asked Ya Yah to hold her hand,
over my back,
in the spot,
where it smarts,
she said,
Things are moving…
And then she turned me around,
to give me a hug,
whispering in my ear,
Don’t worry,
everything is going to be alright…
She asked me,
How did you find me here???
When I told her,
By listening…
She smiled,
because she just knew…
But for emphasis,
she added,
And when it’s ready,
get in the truck…
You can tell security,
Coach V sent for you…


