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Memory #20: Gramma’s buns
Gramma moved in with us after Grandpa died. Initially, she moved into my bedroom (and I moved into an open, unfinished space in the basement). The following summer, we built an addition onto the house for her. The “granny suite”. A suite, that after she passed away, all three of us kids lived in. From…
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Memory #21: Growing Up
As I sit in a tattoo studio, watching my sixteen-year-old get his first tattoo, I am reminded of sixteen year old me and my desire to “hurry up and grow up” mindset. I remember my sixteenth birthday vividly. It was the summer of 1990. The day was warm, as most July’s in Alberta are, Mom…
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Memory #22: More Choices
Yesterday, I was speaking about the choices I had to make when I had my son and the things I knew, or thought I knew, for certain, I would “do” with him. Though I had never intended on co-sleeping, after a few failed weeks at trying to transition him to his own bed, I slipped…
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Memory #23: Choices
When I had my son, I had ideas of how things would be. I was so certain. I would breastfeed. It would be easy, it would come naturally. All the mother’s were doing it. Especially those in my online mum’s groups. But only for one year, because that was all that was needed, statistically speaking.…
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Memory #24: Darkness
I don’t remember when it started, it just always seemed to be there. Many would say I was generally pretty happy, but I think we become very good at putting on a ‘face’ to the world. We have expectations placed upon us that we must live up to, no matter the cost. I was expected…
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Memory #25: Shattered
It all started innocently enough. It was Family Day Long weekend here in Alberta (third weekend in February) and I was hosting my brother and sister (and their families) for dinner. It was a bit of an oddity as I was deeply embroiled in my schoolwork so coming up for air, especially to host a…
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Memory # 26: Erin (Memories with in a memory)
I was fourteen when I met Erin. She was amazing. Far too cool to be dating my brother. Tall, beautiful, so cool, with black lace, Madonna-esque high heeled shoes, she breezed into our house, coming to meet us for dinner the first time. I was stunned! SHE WAS SO COOL. She worked at a car…
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Memory #27: Dead to me
“He died.” I said quietly. He hadn’t, but that’s what I told the woman who asked what happened to my boyfriend. I was eighteen and had been dumped. He was the first boy I had ever loved, trusted fully and completely with my heart. I’d lived with him and everything and one night, he declared,…
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Memory #28: Inequity
Inequity. It is a word we hear tossed around a lot these days. At its core, it is an instance of unfairness or injustice. Simple, right? So easily righted, or so it seems. See a wrong, point it out, have it corrected. It should be fair and equal and made right. I learned several years…
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