Drafts 1 - 11 (not including 10) Between the Covers, CBC Radio
Spaces, CBC Books "All Told"
About six weeks ago our daughter left home. This isn’t tragic. She has gone to Amsterdam to study. We are happy for her, and we’ll be fine here on our own. Really we will. On the morning of her departure, her flight was cancelled, so our carefully planned farewell scene fell apart. My husband went to work, and after a mad scramble for another flight, I took her to the airport on my own. I was fine until we get to the gate and then I melted, and then she did, her face devolving from twenty years old to two. How could I let her go?
But I did, and then I watched her walk through the security gate. Then watched about 25 other people walk through in case any of them are shoe bombers or perverts – but also because I thought if I could catch just one more glimpse of her even if it was just the bun on top of her head, that bun that looks like a cross between Princess Leia and Marge Simpson, I’d know she was okay. Listen.
“The Inner Weed,” Daily Dose of Lit, August 9, 2013
“The Goddess of Light & Dark,” Room No. 34-1, Winter, 2011
“Lurching Man,” Geist No. 78/79, Fall, 2010
“Gangly Man,” Geist No. 69, Summer, 2008
“Drafts 1 – 12 (not including 11)," enRoute Magazine, April, 2006
“Ducks,” Geist No. 66, Fall, 2007
“The Plot of a Life,” Geist No. 55, January, 2005
“Pink Bunnies and Other Things,” The Book of George, The BoG Collective, 2004
“Gravity,” Fugue 2000, University of British Columbia, Spring, 2000
Review: Underground and Perfecting, Event 38-2, Fall 2009
“Pools, Currents, Streams,” Event 35-3, Fall 2006
“On Stories & Hangovers,” Event 35-6, Fall 2007
Photo staging by my daughter, Olivia Walker.
Threshold, Eighteen Bridges
My husband is a liar. When I complain about the wrinkles on my neck, he says, "What wrinkles?" Then I laugh because I don't want to press the point. Would it be a good idea to have him examine, truly, the decay that is my neck skin? Think wattle. Think chicken with pin feathers that spring out overnight. Read.
Natty Man, Geist
A man I know slightly rides past our house on his bicycle going uphill. He looks natty in his two-tone jacket and tight black pants. His fifties-style bicycle completes the look, which is self- conscious but well done. Our hill is steep—at the point where gravity and the man’s efforts are equally matched, the front wheel wobbles before surging up again. On another person this moment of hesitation could look like waywardness, but on him, a man who pronounces judgements on things without considering the options, the wobble looks more like a flourish.Read.
Divine Language, Maisonneuve
A few years ago, I went to a retreat centre in British Columbia that a friend had recommended. My friend, a long-lapsed Catholic, assured me that religion wasn’t a prerequisite, so I didn’t worry about my own state of lapsedness and booked a few days there. On arrival, the minister in charge welcomed me. He was soft spoken and asked gentle questions, mostly to do with how long I would stay and how was my journey there, but then he asked me what church I attended. I said, “None,” and thought I saw a small hardness pass behind his eyes. Read.
“Fallen Apples,” The Fiddlehead No. 245, 2010
“Balloons” The Malahat Review, No. 146, 2004
“Alice in the Storm” Prairie Fire, Vol. 22:4, 2002