Loss Of My Mom
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I am snug in a booth in the food court at the mall. To my right is my three-year-old. To her right is the wall. We are munching on our coffee shop treats. We just dropped her sister at kindergarten. Across from us are a mom and her son. By the sounds of it their…
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Watching my five-year-old tear around the school playground after school makes me ask myself if I was once that carefree. I realize that I must have begun for the first ten years of my life. I have small memories of after school play dates and skating club parties. That all changed the summer before…
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; After washing the breakfast dishes and loading them into the dishwasher, I feel a sense of dread. I am spooked, and I know why. Without looking at the calendar or knowing what day it is, I just know. It is March 28th and I am now older than my mom was before she passed…
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The date was January 4th, 2009. I still remember the way the keys felt under my fingers, shaky and scared if I was ‘doing it right.’ After ten months having fun on Twitter and taking The Momoir Project classes, I craved to take my world public. I wished to progress in my writing. I…
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“Bye. Talk soon. I love you. “I hang up the phone. I just fleshed out the Christmas plans with my sister. She is the closest family we have near and will be spending dinner at her house. We are keeping plans and times loose. I will call her after my kids open their gifts. No…
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“Who wants more freshly-baked banana oatmeal cookies?” our play date hostess asks. With a quick scramble and expressing good manners, the four children sit down at the kitchen table to nosh on the treats. Kathy (not her real name) smiles at the sight and comes over to offer me one. I shake my head politely…
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I am thrilled to announce that I have an essay in the collection called: Wisdom Has a Voice: Every Daughters Memory of Mother. It is out now and on Kindle. As you may have read my previous articles, being motherless has been my cathartic vice to write. This compelling collection of twenty-five memoirs, about mothers…
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‘Mommy, more, please.” My tenacious four-year-old asks. I fill up the bucket one more time to fill the water table. The squeals of my girls pierce the backyard. Their toys are scattered over the lawn. Summer heat is forgotten when the sprinkler and water table are the front and centre attraction. I stretch out in…
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At school pick-up my polite conversation with another mom turns to what we each do. She is a nurse on swing shift. I tell her about my freelance work. She remarks on how lucky I am. I smile and wonder if she genuinely felt that way on my truth. My mind starts to tabulate just…
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I stare at the blinking cursor on the computer. It lights up the fact that I have writer’s block. It is only a new feeling to me since December of last year. Before I could pen long essays or blogs fuelled by passion. My word fell through my pen and to the keyboard with ease…
Danielle Christopher 