We Travel in Time

 One of my all time favorite movies is About Time.

I have watched it many times and expect to watch it many more times. It has a richness and depth that speaks to me every time I view it. I cry at the same scenes over and over and sometimes I watch it just to do that. It is a delightful ,quirky little movie about time travel and has multiple layers which is why I never tire of loosing myself in it. I love the dad, the mom, the wild little sister, the odd uncle, the love story, the heartbreak and the deep connections it celebrates. We travel in time every day as we like the characters in this movie go back and forth to the times that have shaped us. Each time I watch the father and little boy skipping stones and walking hand in hand back up the hill I remember all those magical moments I had with my kids. I cry and smile at the same time. I try to live one day at a time and stay grounded and grateful for the here and now but my mind and heart go back in time  and leap ahead just as often. The main message of this beautiful little movie is to appreciate it all. I will soon move out of this house we built and have lived in for almost thirty five years. So many memories, so many changes but here we are on this day. We look ahead with hope but can not alter the course of either the past or the future. We must just live it. Twenty three and a half years ago I placed a photograph of Zac that was taken in the pantry on one of the pantry cupboards vowing to never remove it. Now I am removing myself from the pantry and Caleb and Jenna will eventually renovate and remove the cupboard. I am fine with that and with whatever choices they make. Zac goes with me to our new home  even though he will have never stood in the spots we will stand. I can always return to moments when he was with us. That is the beauty of time travel. Perhaps this photograph will be the one Caleb will find a place for in his new kitchen. Either way his big brother held him while stirring  oatmeal and making him breakfast. And those are the times that matter!

I Need a Pep Talk

 Today's blog entry is just for me! Feeling overwhelmed this morning  a memory popped into my head. I am standing in a woodworking shop in Nashwaaksis  holding my nine month old baby waiting to talk to John Brewer about renting his empty farmhouse in Burtt's Corner. I have spent the morning combing the countryside in my father's truck with my easy going Zachary in the car seat, looking for a house to rent. The criteria  of the search has two conditions; we need to be able  burn wood and it has to have a barn for our ten cows. Amid the loud drone of saws and machinery I ask Mr. Brewer if I can rent his house explaining my mission. He is resistant having had bad tenants in the past. I plead and  Zac lays on his charms  until he finally gives in, but says the barn is not safe to use. I can bring in a wood stove though so I agree to rent it. He says $125 a month. I get him down to $100. A week later we use Dad's truck to move in to a house a half an hour away from St. Thomas University where I will  earn my Bachelor of Education. It is Friday and I still have no vehicle  and I start school on Monday. Burton arrives with the  brand new truck he sold the ten cows to buy. I have the weekend to learn how to drive a standard and have no babysitter. My friend Giselle agrees to keep Zac until I find someone and I proceed to learn how to shift gears without stalling. Fast forward to today. I can do this next thing! We can do this next thing!

Happy Book Anniversary!

 Copies of the 10th Anniversary Edition of The Year Mrs. Montague Cried arrived today. My debut novel is seeing a second life, a re-issuing, an anniversary edition. How amazing is that! I think back to the moments in a quiet classroom while my grade four students were busy writing a provincial assessment, when there wasn't  much required of their  teacher except to be present, when I jotted down the seeds of an idea that had been simmering since the first nights of sleeplessness after my son's death the year before . I remember sitting in the quiet stillness of the night after tumultuous days of grieving and preparing for my oldest son's funeral; an act too unimaginable to truly process but unavoidable. My husband and our other three kids slept while I filled page after page attempting to make some sense of the  nightmare we were living through. I knew in those moments a book honoring Zac would someday surface.  So on that day a year later  in that  testing silence I scribbled the framework of how that book would take shape. I knew the title early on and I knew the ending but at that point I knew very little. The most important thing I knew was that I needed to write it. I made a plan which was attainable but not immediate. I would apply for a 4/5 deferred leave and on the fifth year I would write The Year Mrs. Montague Cried. From that first jotting until the moment I held a copy of the book in my hand  there are  more stories than this one blog entry can hold but I remember the journey in detail. It was a journey toward publication of course but more than that it was a journey toward finding a way to live with the ever present sorrow of burying  my first born child. Tonight I celebrate the 10th anniversary of the publication of my first book ( a year late), I acknowledge  twenty-three and a half years of living without Zac, twenty-two and a half years since getting the idea  for the book to honor my son,  sixteen years since taking the year off to write it,  twelve years since the manuscript  won first place in the Atlantic Writing Competition, eleven  years since  Acorn Press published it, ten years since it won the Ann Connor Brimer Excellence in Children's Literature Award. This little debut novel  has now been returned to stores and bookshelves and to reader's hands. I can again offer it up with the eleven books I wrote and saw published after making sure I told the story I needed to tell first.  Happy Book Anniversary !