Stories, fragments, and photographs from the in-between moments of everyday life
In 2020, I identified a serious gap in my understanding of Black history. In a small, but much-needed attempt to fill that gap, I decided to begin my learnings with this highly recommended story. In support of Black History Month, I thought I’d share. Homegoing …
I’ve been reflecting a lot about the past year, and how different it’s been from the previous ones. This year felt like the longest year of my life, yet it leaves me completely bewildered that the now infamous month of March is only 3 months …
An Ode to my Favourite Season; here is one of my favourite pieces.
As the Wind ran his familiar fingers across my cheeks, he played with my hair, freeing strands from under my scarf. Unfazed and determined to catch my bus, I continued to walk. Persistent, the Wind blew a little harder, surpassing the wool of my coat, sending a slight chill across my skin.
“Look,” he begged.
Stealing my attention, I looked up from my phone and felt my eyes grow wide and my lungs catch their breath. Like rain in July, a thousand golden souls fell gently from the sky. It was magnificent. Pleased with himself, the Wind swept back around, brushing past me, leaving behind only a soft whisper.
“Listen,” he said as he dove almost into the Earth itself, awakening a thousand more from their graves, breathing vigor into their core. Like children, they danced around my ankles, twirling in circles, asynchronously jumping up and down. I listened to the familiar rustling, like butterflies fluttering in the spring. Inhaling deeply, I smiled. The Wind sailed around me once more, this time drawing with him my distracted thoughts and insubstantial worries.
“Thank you,” I whispered back, as my feet continued on their usual route, only this time a little slower.
#BePresent
The Sky was a cloudless pale blue, as I stepped onto my deck on a cool August evening. I rested my head against the backrest of the patio chair, and gazed out into the backyard, past the neighbouring homes, and at all that I could …