July 26, 2015

I want to write something
so simply
about love
or about pain
that even
as you are reading
you feel it
and as you read
you keep feeling it
and though it be my story
it will be common,
though it be singular
it will be known to you
so that by the end
you will think-
no, you will realize-
that it was all the while
yourself arranging the words,
that it was all the time
words that you yourself,
out of your heart
had been saying.

-Mary Oliver

July 11, 2015

June 14, 2015

May 24, 2015

May 19, 2015

May 2, 2015

A "Flashback Friday" story I read on my workplace intranet. Revisited words from an old book. A verse from a song I haven't listened to in years.

Things jump out at me in a different way now. With a new understanding about life.


Leif says his brother's name now. Lili, he calls him.

I tell him that soon we will go to the mountains for Liam's fourth birthday.

My season of grief is approaching. I can feel it in my whole body.

April 17, 2015

flashback friday.

In roughly 1924-1925 a premature six-month-old baby was born, but given no chance at survival by the attending physician.

A nurse by the name of Nurse Amour sprang into action and used her ingenuity to create a homemade incubator out of an empty beer bottle, heated oil, copper wires, wood boxes, sheets and a bed frame all placed on top of a stove.

Her efforts paid off - the baby survived.

-The Lachine Hospital, Montréal, Québec