Motherless Mom
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I never used to hate my mom. 37 years later, I finally forgive my mom for leaving. Every time she got sick and had to go away, she came back. The last time, mom never came back home. That was when my childhood ended. I was 10 years old. From the first slap and the…
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I pour a second cup of coffee and turn around to lean on the kitchen sink to observe the kitchen and living room. The destruction of Christmas is evident on every surface possible. The smell of the overnight breakfast casserole cooking is making me drool. I am so relieved to have prepped it last night.…
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“ It was pre-cancerous.” The words just said by the doctor hang in the air within a cartoon bubble. I watch his mouth keep moving. However, his words are on mute to my ears. When I finally tune in again, I realize he is talking in a serious doctor tone explaining that I will have…
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My nine-year-old daughter just put me through an interview. She asked questions about my favorite movies and favorite foods. I was delighted to answer every question. Her curiosity shows off her brilliant mind. I only knew my mom for ten years. Without a doubt, I know what I would ask her today. Mom, here are…
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It is 2018. Many fellow Canadians are opting to not travel to the United States because of the current political climate. I can’t help to think of the American experience we had in 2013. It was the first Family Day here in my province. And we had to leave our country for the day. My…
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Like a sunrise I didn’t know I needed, you marched into our life to make your claim. Your silent words I should have heeded, delays past milestones, red-flags everywhere. Your eyes expressed when words failed. The simplest thing could trigger a storm. I pulled every trick I could until you sailed back to the moment,…
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You can’t edit a blank page, just like you can’t make a kid take a nap. When my oldest was a baby, inspiration hit me to write a children’s book for her. Our oldest cat was getting on in age. I was afraid she wouldn’t know him as she grew up. One day while…
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Snuggled on the couch with photo albums spread out, my kids ask again for stories about when I was in school. It is the end of the current school year. We are chatting about the good memories of the year. My kids are amazed that there was life before them. “Who was your favorite teacher…
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I hate her. There, I said it, or at least in my head. She was supposed to come home today. All those medical talking heads said August 15 would be the date. Adults are liars, even grandma and grandpa. They say we get extra time at their house. Are you serious? I’m supposed to be…
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My tunnel vision sharpens, my eyes are focused on my MacBook screen. The message stares at me without blinking. I have read it a possible few hundred times. I swallow in attempts to quench my parched throat. My voice echoes the message. “ Thank you for writing about what I have been thinking… None…
Danielle Christopher 