Everyday Threads

I originally intended to write about summer through the senses. June has been full of birdsong, green leaves, warm breezes, and the smell of rain on hot pavement. There has been plenty to notice. Yet when I sat down to think about this week, another theme kept pushing its way to the front. My plan One more thing. It seemed to follow me through the entire second half of June. The week began with a phone call from E, who had received a message from GD#2 about GD#3. The details were vague but alarming. She had been found in a room with three boys and was incoherent. Her mother wasn't taking her to the hospital. My mind immediately went back to my daughter and the night I found her in a similar condition. Getting her to the hospital had been the first thing I did, so hearing that GD#3 wasn't being taken immediately upset me. I also assumed she had been roofied and taken advantage of, even though nothing E told me actually suggested that. As a survivor of sexual abuse, that is where...

When we talk about our summer, we talk about big things. The first beach day. The family barbecue. The vacation everyone remembers years later. But that is not summer at all. Summer is built from moments. Trying on a new bathing suit, discovering a new café, or returning to an old haunt. We remember fireflies and the sounds of a summer night with crickets and June bugs and, if you live in the right place, the bullfrogs' nightly song. That is what the last two weeks reminded me of: moments from my childhood remembered today. The walk to the local beach, swimming, always swimming. I loved the water. The first ice cream cone from the local ice cream shop. As I grew older, it began to include the taste of new strawberries fresh from the plant and the vanilla iced coffee that became a fixture in my summer life. The first road trip to anywhere was also a treat. I've relived those moments every year, this year included. Those moments may not seem important when they happen, but they a...

I am pondering the first signs of summer today. June, for me, is all about the senses: sight, sound, smell, touch, and taste. Summer never arrives all at once. It arrives in pieces and threads, in bright colours and beautiful scents, in small moments that quietly announce a change of season. The sights are the things that tend to catch my attention first. One of the earliest signs of summer is the appearance of dandelions. After them come the lilacs, and then the strawberries. Sadly, there will be no strawberries in the garden this year. They were choked out by a vine last season, and no one has reseeded them. Even so, there is no shortage of colour. The tulips and daffodils of spring have faded, replaced by apple blossoms, peonies, catmint, and the soft purple of lilacs. Everywhere I look, something seems to be blooming. The greens are deepening too. There are shades of green I don't notice at any other time of year. The sounds of summer arriving are just as familiar. I hear child...

When I sat down to think about May, I wasn't trying to write a review. I was trying to make a list of things I didn't want to forget. I expected to find two or three standout moments. Instead, I found page after page of memories. There were a few rough days, as there always are, but what surprised me most was how many good days were hiding in the month when I looked back.   Physically, I am doing very well. My blood sugar and blood pressure both moved into the normal range, at least according to my doctor. Aquafit has become part of my life rather than something I'm trying to establish. This week I completed almost an entire class without using the wall for balance support. I have established a 5,000-step baseline and reached almost double that on several occasions. My weight has remained steady at 196 pounds all month. Perhaps the most visible reminder came when I tried on a medium dress that I was sure wouldn't fit. It did, and comfortably. The numbers only tell part ...

"I looked back, but I didn't move backward."   There are times I look back at my life and go what the hell? We are what we were raised to be even when we fight against the things we went through ourselves. We either emulate what we knew growing up or we do everything in our power to go in the opposite direction. Either way we are shaped by it. We carry pieces of it with us whether we want to or not. For myself there are memories I keep and others I avoid as much as possible, but lately some things from my younger years have been making their way back into my thoughts. Certain decisions I made in my twenties have come back around and I have found myself responding to them differently than I did then. Some of that is simply lessons learned. Some of it is pain given and received without closure. Either way I have been looking back more than usual. Part of that happened because my family and I have started looking seriously at leaving Peterborough and moving somewhere health...

I'm somewhere in the middle of catching up with myself. The last few days have felt busy and full. I am home again now, but I don't feel fully settled yet. Some things are still moving through me while other things have stayed the same. Things are shifting, but not fully. I noticed how much can happen in a few ordinary days. I am still me. I still need rest. I still come back to familiar routines. But something feels a little different too. Maybe that was the theme of the weekend without me realizing it at the time. Everything felt a little in-between. I was happy to get away, but happy to come home too. I was tired, excited, overwhelmed and interested all at once. Of all the things I've gone through this month, one thing I'm certain of is that I like my home. Messy as it gets sometimes, I am always glad to get back here. Home feels familiar in a way that few other places do. It feels settled, even when I don't. This weekend in the GTA with E and GD#1 was busy. We s...