My new book “Midlife Solo” is now available.

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blessings in the rain

Thursday night I went to see “The Audience,” the National Theatre Live event, at Cineplex, Helen Mirren as the Queen and a large cast as her Prime Ministers from Churchill to Cameron – so so good.

It’s apocalyptic out there this Saturday afternoon – Noah’s floods … The poor people celebrating Pride today, and the other celebrations across the city – it could not be a worse day for June, cold, glowering and teeming. The gardens are happy; no one else is. At least, with the weather.

However, there’s good news to hearten and warm us: the Supreme Court comes through on gay marriage …

just a few days after it also protects Obamacare and the Pope comes through on global warming. What wisdom, justice and fairness from unexpected sources! And Obama sings Amazing Grace at a supremely moving funeral –  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IN05jVNBs64 – and makes a beautiful speech about the recent ruling. So – despite the rain, great joy. My congratulations to all my gay friends, sisters and brothers.

Over here in Cabbagetown, Glamma is recovering from Hurricane Eli, who had his first sleepover here last night. He and Mama came over Friday afternoon, we had supper and a visit, and then his mother LEFT. To go home and rest and, because she is Anna, to wash her floors, which is what she loves to do. Leaving Glamma and Eli to play and run and read stories. Finally, after a long splash in the tub, he said he was ready for bed – in the spare room, which used to be his Uncle Sam’s room. We lay in bed together and I read more stories, asking hopefully every so often, as my eyes drooped, “Are you sleepy yet?” “NOPE,” he said cheerfully. But finally, at 9, his eyes drooped too. Oh the sight of that sleeping angel. Be still my adoring heart.

His mother had warned me that he’d probably wake up in the night and get into my bed, but he didn’t – at least, until 6.45 a.m., when there he was, bright-eyed – “De birdies is singing lots of different songs!” he said. He got in and didn’t wriggle too much until I had to give in and get up and make breakfast. “This stwabewwy jam is so delicious!” he said, over his toast. “Thank you, Glamma.”

Oh my. I had to forgive him for slamming the toilet seat down so enthusiastically that it snapped in two.

The weather was threatening, so no wandering to playgrounds and the Farm – we were at the Y by 9.30 to play in the family play gym, and then over to the Pride celebrations on Church Street, which has a wonderful children’s area. We watched a musician-storyteller until the clouds got so heavy we knew we were in for it and headed for the streetcar. The sight: Glamma carrying two backpacks, a strider bike and helmet, and a paper plate loaded with French fries and ketchup, a snack for the long ride across town, in the cloudburst just before the streetcar came. But we got on, not too wet, and made it home.

The fireman and his wonderful truck outside the Y – giving out stickers!

If there is a more cheerful small child anywhere – wilful, stubborn, mischievous, too, yes – I cannot imagine who that would be. At Anna’s, I admired her baby readiness – everything organized, neat piles of tiny things. Her brother came over and I saw what a small boy really needs – a big man to toss him around and chase him and wrestle and play his favourite game, Smash Crash.

Home in the downpour and gloom, setting the quiet house to rights – straighten the carpets, pushed back for the Plasmacar to make its rounds; in the bathroom, putting away the Spiderman toothbrush and the Thomas the Tank Engine toothpaste and the boats and the hippo that squirts like pee, to great hilarity. Finding things – the coaster Eli insists is a cake that needs to go in the fridge – so there it is, when I open the fridge, a delicious coaster, nice and cold. There’s a big grey stone in my purse that he picked up and solemnly gave me. Could I be luckier, even with a big split in my toilet seat? I am listening to the sublime Eva Cassidy, who died at the age of 33 – her “Fields of Gold” is breathtaking – and I will try not to weep at the blessings of this dark wet world.

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About Beth

I began keeping a journal at the age of nine. Nearly fifty years later, I started this online journal, sharing reflections, reviews, updates, and the occasional secret.

Some Blogs I Follow

Chris Walks
This blog evolves. It once was about travels. Now it’s a reason to be at the keyboard that I value.

Theresa Kishkan
Theresa Kishkan is a writer living on the Sechelt Peninsula on the west coast of Canada.

I walk on. With my feet, and in my mind as well.

Carrie Snyder
Wherever you’ve come from, wherever you’re going, consider this space a place for reflection and pause.

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