A single piece of paper
Flutters in the wind, going
The leaves still are pushed
But the weight holds them in place.
Can keep pieces together.
It's a game you never really cared about.
Still, I spent every waking moment giving all I had to this game.
Still, you spent nearly as much time ribbing me about the soft sport that didn't matter til the last few seconds.
Tonight, my team won a championship against all odds.
Tonight, despite the distance between us, I think of you.
Old man, I want to thank you. Cause if you didn't show me hockey, or baseball, or lacrosse, or football, I would have never found my life. I owe that to you.
Mom, I want to thank you too. Cause if you never took me to every soccer practice, if you never listened to my persistent sports ramblings, if you hadn't taught me what it means to be a good teammate, I would never have found this life. I owe it all to you.
Today is windy. The thawed, muddy earth is restless.
Spring is here, slowly creeping forward.
Today there is nothing to be done. It's a work-free Saturday in April. The cats laze in windows while I sit on the couch and she does a puzzle.
Today is not notable. None of the many life explosions that we will face, will we face today. They will come another time.
Today, I look over at her. Her concentration is unwavering, her gaze fixed on that missing piece that just can't seem to find a home.
Today, I can't look away. She is content, beautiful, strong, smart. All that, with ease, and she chose me.
She looks up. "What?" She smiles, knowing full well that I was staring.
"what?" I respond. She laughs, for the millionth time, and it makes me float, for the millionth time.
Today, I'm home.
There's magic in the moments we share.
Hands holding memories up with fingertips on each end like clouds in a drought. There they sit, unencumbered, until time necessitates rain.
Clouds can be made up of many things. That concert with two thousand people chanting the same words. The moment of knowing pause between sentences of a last conversation. What sometimes becomes remembered as THE last conversation. Brunch shared among friends. These are the things that matter. It's here that sparks are born. It's here that a dry mouth is drenched.
to what there is to hold.
what is will someday become what was.
there will be loss. and it will be without limits.
keep your grasp firm.
I get lost in the content. My eyes ache at the pain that burns around the world. No visine will ease the heat. I scroll and see a shooting followed by a dash cam of an accident followed by a cute puppy followed by some family drama followed by a selfie followed by
it's unending, and there's nothing to be done, so I scroll and scroll and scroll, giving as much attention to the meaningless and the meaningful. It's all the same to me.
Every now and then, I'll steal a glance.
On the train going to a Jays game. Sitting watching TV. Driving to yet another apartment viewing. While you're working at an adjacent desk and I browse the internet.
I see your eyes, glowing blue like the lakes in Banff. I see your nose, rising far from your face. I see your lips, soft. I see the freckle on your right ear. I see your shoulder shimmy that comes whenever any pop song comes on. I see you, every single time, like it's the first time.
I am so lucky.