MEANINGMAKER

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  • i would have loved her

    For many, many years, there has rarely been a day that hasn’t begun with a cup of tea and the obituaries. I read them each day even before I read the daily headlines. Sometimes, I notice trends. For example, around… Continue reading

  • stars

    On a crisp January night, I look up through the scalloped treetops, at the twinkling mansion of the night sky. I don’t know much about the constellations or the heavens, or what’s beyond those things, but they make me wonder.… Continue reading

  • an angel we could see

    A little over a year ago, my cousin Nancy gave me this aloe plant from her collection. I needed a good hair-do for this plant holder person and, by some miracle, it has stayed alive. Nancy & Benny came for… Continue reading

  • carried forward

    I sat in bed on this crazy, windy morning looking through old photos. I keep a stack of them in a wooden box in the bedroom that holds all manner of stuff that there is no real place for. A… Continue reading

  • run like hell

    This week, as I wrap up almost six months of being redeployed to a crazy-busy role on the frontlines of the pandemic, I feel the creative spirit coming back for me. This is my favourite story of how it can… Continue reading

  • standing in the light

    I mailed a copy of a hard-cover storybook I wrote last summer to my aunt in BC last week. It tells the story of her grandpa — my great grandpa — who came to Canada in 1887 as part of… Continue reading

  • thoughts from back in march

    “It’s so hard to just give in. I have fought with everything I have though and I just don’t think I can do it anymore,” she said, looking up at my dad from the couch. “The hardest thing is that… Continue reading

  • almost home

    “What’s wrong. What are you doing?” she said, looking at me confused. “Why are you waking me up?” “Because, it’s time to go to bed. You can’t stay on the couch all night,” I said. “Sorry, I know you’re tired.”… Continue reading

  • the first year

    I used to see a butterfly in my mind’s eye every time I heard the word ‘transformation,’ but life has taught me otherwise. Transformation isn’t a butterfly. It’s the thing before you get to be a pretty bug flying away.… Continue reading

  • home sweet home

    My parents sold the Tavistock house that I grew up in with my brothers and sister in the spring of 1988, just before I was done high school. That Rudy Avenue house, with the stone wall my dad built and… Continue reading