Life is Your Story

 I’m 16, hopping fences, one backyard to the next. It’s Fall and the air is hinting that winter is on its way. It’s one of those nights when you can smell everyone’s dinner cooking. It’s dark out, earlier than the previous month and the kitchen lights are on. I can see entire families seated at the table, eating, talking, enjoying the end of another day together. I see single people alone, watching TV, eating slowly, stepping outside of themselves, wondering, when this became their nightly routine and how they ending up alone. I reach my house and enter the back door that we keep open because I am always losing or forgetting my keys. There are meals prepared for the week by my mother. My parents are both working, and my brothers are nowhere in sight. I warm up some chicken and rice and I am just about to chow down when the phone starts ringing, back in the day when everyone had a “land line” and if you were talking and someone else was trying to reach you, well they got a “busy” si...

Have you ever returned to the home of a loved one after they have passed? To the room they most enjoyed? The study, the kitchen, the bedroom, the garden? When you return to the stillness, the silence, you find yourself looking for them. You search the place from bottom to top, hoping for another chance to see them, hear their voice, touch them, laugh with them. There's a hat or jacket or blanket or pen or book or laptop that they last touched.  Their scent is still in the air. Something left undone, lingers on a desk or kitchen table. They are nowhere to be found, yet, still, you remain seated, as if waiting for a play or show to begin. You ask yourself the same questions that have been asked for ages, for all of time, where has my friend/parent/lover gone? Will I ever see them again? Do they know I love them? What was the last thing I said to them? What was the last thing they said to me? And it goes on and on. There is something comforting about visiting a place that was sacred t...

(Laurentians 2010) It's 1AM, I can't sleep and neither can my dog so I grab a headlight and we go out into the night. He leads me along a wooded path covered in memories of paw prints and explorations with dogs of past and present.  We are surrounded by giant pines and we can hear the whisper of everything that is alive and dancing through the forest. We find a spot unobstructed by trees where we can sit and take in the starry, country sky.  A deep, warm silhouette of colours and shapes waltz their way across the canvas and every now and then a star loses its grip and falls.  I feel a wave of emotion come over me. I wonder where stars learn to twinkle and why some fall while the others stay in place. I hold my dog close and kiss his head. I hold him never wanting to let go because my love for him is so great and our time together so brief. As we head back toward the house, he nudges my hand with his head, barks and gestures. Suddenly, we are startled by a  strobe of ...

  I remember the sound of the ball coming in contact with the bat. The wood bats had a hallow kind of smack, while the aluminum had a ping. I remember the lamplights turning on, slowly, hesitantly flickering before reaching their full strength, the moths dancing in the warm spotlight. I grew up in a small white house, along with my two brothers, on a one-way street called Wentworth. The park was our backyard. It’s where we learned how to play basketball, baseball, hockey and how to look out for one another. Our parents worked several jobs to make ends meet. We lived a simple yet fulfilled life. We were kids with 3 baseball diamonds, two basketball courts, a shack to play “wall ball” against, a jogging path behind Diamond 2, a playground beyond that, and our very first school, Wentworth School across the street, beside yet another landmark, Blossom Pool. We had a neighbour who talked to the bus drivers, whose rest stop was in front of our house. His name was John “Babe” Learie. He a...

 I am walking along a path somewhere in the wilderness. I’m alone at first but then I feel someone’s presence, someone who vanished from my life. I think about all the people I have met and loved, yet there was nothing as intense, as omni-powerful as the connection of which I speak. Sometimes I wonder if some people are meant to only visit us once in our lives, because what they hold in their hands, their offering, is so sacred, so special that the moments of time, find it unbearable to hold onto them – to grasp them in their wholeness. So, I am on this walk and I have that feeling in my gut and I come around a bend and there he is, that person who vanished from this earth we walk upon and for whom I have waited to pass to the other side, so he can visit me in my dreams. But this is not a dream. This is not a hologram. This is not an illusion. This is him. This is what I have been waiting for, hoping for because I really never got to say a proper goodbye. I wasn’t there to kiss his...

Whether you married, whether you divorced, moved to another city, adopted a dog, adopted a baby, had children of your own, never had a child, parted company with a childhood friend, bought a house, sold a house, lost everything, found it all over again, really loved someone, took that pill that made it all go away and then took it again, had a drink and had another, lied so many times you no longer know the truth, said things you knew you shouldn’t have said, kissed someone that wasn’t yours to kiss and then wanted so much more than that kiss, brushed against someone in the grocery store that you never knew and will never know but fantasized about them that very night, lost a parent – a sibling – a partner and were left with a space that will never be filled, hid in someone’s arms and melted away, left someone standing with their heart in their hands… Some things stand out. The love you have for those who surround and love you. The career you have chosen and the passion you have for ev...

    We all have events in our lives that imprint upon our memories. Some are happy, some are sad. We all have regrets of what was and what could have been. We all experience and surrender to love whether it is a lifetime commitment or a night of passion. Our memories are sparked by the scent of cooking, a song, a place we return to where we spent our childhood. While some of us walk a straight line (the job, the career, the partner, the kids, the house), others take detours. They travel the world, have various partners and live one day to the next.  The paths we take bring us to people and places where we settle, build a foundation and a LIFE THAT BECOMES OUR STORY. For over 20 years, I have been ghostwriting for those who want to share their life story. Whether in their twilight years or their prime, they all possess A SLICE OF BRILLIANCE.  Their life experiences are fascinating and through an intense interviewing process that takes sometimes a year or more, I am ab...

I went for a run. The rain was falling hard, the fog had set in. I came around a bend and a woman approached me. There was no one else in sight and she appeared as a silhouette carrying an air of grace. When she spoke I heard my Grandmother's voice and when I looked into her eyes, I saw a deep soulful speck of light from a moment in the past. My Grandmother had MS and was paralyzed from the neck down. She spent over 30 years in a hospital bed unable to move. In her 80's, she passed away from complications of pneumonia and I was thankful for that pneumonia because it had provided her with a long overdue end to the pain and suffering she had endured. We ran a few more blocks and then this strange spirit in the shape of a woman said, "I have to go now. I wish I could stay here with you." Then she vanished into the mist, into a place I've never been.                                        ...

It’s Friday night and I am fully reclined on my Lazy Boy eating Miss Vickie’s Chips. I buy 3 different flavours and I mix them all into one bowl. I’ve substituted that for foreplay and so far it’s doing the trick. I’m watching Survivor (on demand) and the players are starving, sweating, dreaming of toilet paper, a burger, and fries. They are at one of those obstacle courses and Jeff is shouting the instructions. They don’t understand a single word, neither do I and I have shelter, air conditioning and a mouth full of chips. Now my Uber Eats has just arrived, I’m digging into my Cote St. Luc BBQ Chicken with those amazing fries (chips and fries = two sources of vitamin C in one night), there’s some gravy dipping going on and it’s the part of the show when those headless people demonstrate the obstacle course. Who are those people? How can I get that job? Also, why is everyone always wet and how do they suddenly have blazers and fedoras and hip clothing? Is there a retro shop on the isla...

I’m lounging. It’s 7pm on a Friday night. The work week is done. I reward myself with Pad Thai (uh huh...from the box). I’m in my regular dining spot; my Lazyboy (digestion position - midway back). I’m watching TV while my dog watches me (he is familiar with my mediocre chopstick skills). I’m thinking, “This Pad Thai is delicious. What a great start to yet another exciting weekend” and then it happens:   The following is in slow motion… noodles covered in tiny pieces of peanuts on way to mouth – leap off the chopsticks onto   shirt Everything stops – my entire world – as I fathom what to do next. I could set my hand into “pickle claw” position and “pick” it from my shirt. I could remove the shirt altogether and change into another. Aaaaa....too much work - so I leave it on my shirt. I’m streaming “This is Us” so I know I am going to start crying at any moment and if I put it on pause then I’ll have to start crying all over again. Then...

I'm feeling 50 - I mean I am feeling it everywhere. I'm tired. I'm squinting. I say "oye" all the time. "Oye!" I'm trying to remember what foreplay is but all I can think of it as eating a bag of Miss Vickie's Salt Vinegar chips before watching Shark Tank (which I watch and shout out "I had that idea - I had that idea - damn!") I've lost my taste for food that has any taste because gas is a stark reality of feeling 50 so best to avoid it (the gas). I eat mostly bread and toast (which is bread toasted) and I usually find the time to fit in some danish or other bakery type product (which is delicious). I use to work out every day - I mean intense works outs. Now I get on the elliptical and my knee says "Oh don't do it - don't do it." And what on earth is happening to my neck? There are lines and creases and the skin is like butter - you hear me? Like butter!" I would cover it all up with a b...

There’s that special friend and that sacred place -   a park, a cottage, a lake, a summer camp – where you grew up, experimented, built your foundation. You spoke of the life that you would make for yourself – the partner – the co-pilot – the kids – the career – the house – the travels – the stuff that makes you feel alive. When things weren’t going well behind closed doors – the family – the parents – the sibling – the knocking around – you met in this place and that friend took you home until things were better. And as the years went on and you met the partner, built the career, had the kids, the step kids, the dog, the cat, the house, the debt, the change in the partner that wasn’t really change at all – the one kid out of the 2 or 3 that struggled, that searched without finding, the hugs, the sighs, the “everything will be okay” even when you didn’t think everything would be okay. The mid-life crisis – the change in career – the affair or thought ...