Canada in Review in Photo

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These Words Are Mine

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Who said "Actions Speak Louder Than Words"? I want to talk to that guy. It must be a guy... I am certain. I understand the purpose and point and practicality of such an expression, I understand how we must be accountable for our actions, and not confuse the honesty of what we do, with the ease of words that leave our mouths, oftentimes without much thought, or consideration. Perhaps I rely on the words too much, When my actions seem insufficient. When there isn't a chance to show or make actionable, I am one of words. The way they fall off the pages of a book, and make me cry, or laugh, or scan, rapidly, unable to read fast enough to satisfy my curiosity. The words that are in the songs, That I carefully digest and interpret, Perhaps erroneously. Though it is likely the case that, whatever my favorite songs are at any given moment give some indication of what is on my mind. The words that fall out of your mouth, oftentimes w...
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"Dear Bobby"

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"Dear Bobby, I love you. I always look forward to when my husband leaves for work, and you sneak into bed with me. Sometimes, you will wake me up, but usually, you just lie there next to me waiting for my eyes to open." Bobby. You are a cat. But you are the cat of all cats. Unliked some others whose names I will not mention.... you like being a cat. You are my original Obi Kenobi... But you don't like your name and insist I call you "Bobby" or "Bob". You are my predator. You can catch anything- including a rabbit almost twice your size. I remember the time you brought a baby possum into our home. I had just awakened and sleepily headed to use the bathroom when, peering from inside the toilet, was a little possum begging to be released. You cheeky bastard, Bobby. That poor possum. I scolded you and you just turned the other whisker, as if to say "look lady... I am a cat, that's how I do...." The other cats beg for forgiveness when ...
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If I'd done that

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If I done that, I wouldn't have this. If anything were different then, I wouldn't have Sayler. And in the years that followed her birth, if I'd done anything differently, I wouldn't have Alana. I wonder about "what ifs" I sometimes stare at pictures, or I get lost in memories, or I hear something on the radio or see something that makes me pause and wonder "what if?" And then I remember, on a day like today, that I'm in my car, parked outside of an elementary school, and I am waiting for my almost-six year old. And I wouldn't be outside this very school, waiting for that very girl, if it weren't for things exactly as they've turned out. But then I drift.... Back into a "what if?" Could I have changed anything?  Could I have made anything better?  Could I have made anyone healthier? Could I have said more?  Done more?  And then I remember if anything had changed many years ago, I wouldn't be in this exact white car, with ...
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