A Column of The Miramichi Reader
After every funeral, we play car tag. Lift keys from our front hallways, still dressed in black skirts and skinny ties, pair into the driver and passenger seats of our parent’s cars, some of us holding memorial handouts, some of us a little drunk from the flask passed around the funeral home bathroom. We snake …
You collected me from the jetty in the small logging town. I’d been waiting in a striptease bar, the lumberjack customers more interested in their beers and televised ice-hockey than the girls. I’d seen your boat from a mile out, cutting a quick white swathe through the lake. During the ride back into the forest …
Catalina was feeding her grandmother when ocean waves swelled bringing news of her brother Tamas, long gone on a misguided sailing expedition. The blustery winds of the high seas played mischief with the pious families of the village, spreading rumours and lies, twisting and winding them up like a chroniker with no hands. Today it …
He stands up erect as she approaches the table. She is a vision of sea breeze and morning glory; her stride, a diaphanous runway walk. Subduing a rising blush, he slides out the upholstered chair and catches a tumble of soft brown curl as she folds into her seat. What a babe! Conversation is easy, …