The Last Day of Childhood
At that moment, I realized my Ellen wasn’t even crying. Her face was hot and dry.
At that moment, I realized my Ellen wasn’t even crying. Her face was hot and dry.
During one of these slushy late Aprils, my mother left my father, cut her hair, and moved us twenty-two hours northward to Lynn Lake, Manitoba – back to the dead of winter.
The whole move was a badly planned, abysmal failure. Of course.
Before I go on with Ellen’s story, let me discuss my favourite creature on earth aside from humans – the guinea pig.
“Do you want me to be someone else?”
I have no idea why I put him on this earth, but I had to take him out.
In some cultures, they say a woman’s hair is her crowning glory. When I saw Marjean’s hair like that, I couldn’t help but think maybe people are onto something with that notion.
The mine owned the town and made it a pleasant enough place to live.
Up until now, he had mostly been an imaginary friend, a name in a song . . .
Jesus is a good guy. Always has been.