Skip to main content

Useless Writings

Today I do not have to go where I go Everyday.
It is pouring rain when my child walks in the door of his school. The sky was nasty, grey, dark.
I hid under the covers until noon.

I watch the sunlight stream through front window; five minutes after 12. I marvel the bluest of skies and puffy white clouds.
Canada has been so colourless lately.
But when I step out my door, the wind wants to knock me over and I want to run in to hide back under my covers.
But I have to pay my rent.
I write on the bus for the first time in a long time.
Lately, I have been having to read, instead.

"Would you like to do your banking online?" the bank teller says, too grandly. I wait for him to sweep his arm in an arc. He grins, and waits for my answer.
I grin back. "No."
"I can get you a password, right now!"
"No, that's okay. I would forget it."
He taps my cable bill.
"It might make you remember other things,' he cocks an eyebrow at me.
I raise my eyebrow at him.
"Shut-up, Steve," I say, and we laugh.
Wet snow is falling on the ground, slick with purpose and a plop as it hits the ground, as I leave the bank.

I see Gord in the grocery store.
His big, big belly. His white, white beard. He looks like a dopey elf.
We meet up at the bus stop, too.
"What are you reading there, Elizabeth?" he asks.
"John Berger. It's all about sight, Gord," I sigh.
"Elizabeth, do you know about existentialism?"
I roll my eyes.
"Boy," I say. "Do I ever."
"I was reading Jean-Paul Sartre..."
"Shut-up, Gord," I say, and we laugh.
The sky is ice grey.

Amber and I listen to the kids scream. And run. And jump.
My son falls and it is seriously the biggest goose egg I have ever seen.
Then Amber and I listen to the kids scream. And run. And jump. Again.
We eat tacos.
We do not shut-up.
We laugh.

Comments

Jennifer said…
What is up with this weather? Grey skies, rain, terrible winds, no sun shine, no snow. We are still in Canada no??
Sunday, 5 December 2004 at 23:51:00 GMT-5
Queenie said…
...until this morning, then that awful, nasty snow came.
I am happy it has almost melted.

Q
Monday, 6 December 2004 at 17:28:00 GMT-5
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Village Itself

Across the road from my home is an apartment building. It is made of brown brick and has three stories. It also has plenty of windows I often forget about while I go about my daily and nightly routines. I also forget my curtains are white, lacey and see-through scraps purchased from an aisle in Wal-Mart. Fifteen apartments. That may all house people with binoculars. It was the muggiest night this past summer had owned. Brenda was down for a visit and when she comes, it usually means a night spent over on my couch for her. Brenda lives in another town. It was one in the morning, no sleep to be found between the two us. We sat slouched on my front porch trying to capture the occasional breeze offered, sucking it deep into our lungs, praying it would cool us down. Our glasses of Pepsi sweated warning us how warm the drink would taste in our mouths. "Tilly! Tilly!" the shout sat our spines straight as we looked across the street to the where the sound was coming fr...
17 comments
Read more

Rosy Cheeks

My son's circle and lined wall, created with the permanent red marker, became something he liked to show-off. I guess the other kids who come here liked it, too.   I guess he wanted to show-off more. That is one of the many hypothesis I have about how the Map of Africa came to be. I just keep hoping my kid is some kind of odd little genius.  On the morning I discovered the map of Africa, I was not speechless and I could breathe. "What is this?" I demanded. And loudly. My son shrugged his shoulders. "I like it. It's nice. Took a long time." He had chipped paint off the wall. His walls are white. That morning, it was discovered his room used to be beige.   And it was starting to look like a room in an abandoned house. I thought to myself that maybe this look would be the in thing  20 years from now and he could make millions. He could be a visionary. It was a good enough excuse for me to leave the room. I used it...
22 comments
Read more

..What Are You Waiting For?

She had a real calm smile; it took its time creeping up into her eyes. And there she was looking up at me. She was sitting, right down there on the sidewalk, up against the wall of the bank. Her hand was wrapped around a red pen; buried into a magazine. And I was walking by her. Her eyes were brown. I did not smile back at her. One can never be too sure about anyone who is downtown. A few days later; it was grey and chilly, and I saw her again. With the same simple smile; this time growing into recognition. She stood just inside the entrance way of the video store, ducked, despite the fact she was barley five feet tall and the doorway was at least ten. Funny girl, I thought. Her smile passed by quickly, and then she bent her head down, to the inside of another magazine. She took a long, lipstick drag off a cigarette. "What are you doing?" she asked, when I was passing by her a day and a half later. And I stopped my step, for I was truly stumped. I looked down at my br...
11 comments
Read more