about
Date: January 01, 2025
Location: Ottawa ON, Canada
I had been meaning to label the photographs for years. Every autumn I told myself I would do it when the garden was put away for the winter. Then Christmas would come, followed by another spring, and somehow the albums always found their way back onto the bookshelf without a single new note inside them. That Tuesday morning I finally carried them into the backyard. David had built the garden bench about twelve years earlier. He said cedar would last forever if you looked after it. I wasn't so sure, but the bench was still there, weathered to a soft grey that matched the fence behind it. Beside it stood the little round table he made from the leftover boards. "It needs a table," he'd said. "For what?" "For tea." "You're building furniture around a teapot?" "I'm planning ahead." He usually was. I set the albums on the table first. Then my mug. Then Mother's old recipe notebook. Only after everything was in its place did I sit down. I have never liked balancing a cup of tea on my knees.
No comments yet. Be the first to comment!