CAR IS READY It was Wednesday, November third twenty ten. I had hobbled down the stairs from my third floor apartment, grasping the rail in my left hand, and carrying my cane in my right hand. The HandiBus was just pulling in front of the apartment. Fortunately I had left enough time to make it…
Memory can be false. I always remembered the quote as “music can soothe the savage beast.” William Cosgreve, English poet and playwright, actually said, “Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.”
Our waiter looked significantly at us. In a slight Spanish accent he said, “this is Ignacio your Wine Steward. He will be helping you choose your wine this evening.” We were celebrating my seventy first birthday at Tramanto at Vidanta’s Riviera Maya resort. Tramanto is open only in the evening and only from Thursday to…
I knocked, knocked, knocked on her door. But she didn’t answer. I waited while reading a travel brochure titled What To Do In Digby County. Ten minutes passed. I left. Went next door to the Farmers Market. Bought a bottle of white wine. Annapolis Highland Vineyards Seyval Blanc. Only 15 bucks (10 USD). Came back….
MOON DANCE Her voice it sings. She of dewy lips, scented passions fire, bathed in silver lunar light. With dread. For that distant call stirs ungentle memories. It enchants and unresistant I move to peel away sanity’s thin veneer. Against my cheek again I feel the fiery breath. Nostrils flare to the familiar scent of…
It is 4 in the morning. I am listening to the rain piss down on the stone tiles outside my room. The balcony door is open a foot and the 27 degree Celsius, muggy tropic air wafts in. I have been awake since 2 a.m. And, IT is happening again. IT being the return of…
P is for PTSD The taxi pulled up in front of my daughter’s home. I was waiting on the porch at the side. Shivering in the cold. My breath making clouds of cold steam. I hurried to the taxi, cane in left hand, small travelling bag in right hand. I opened the right front passenger…
Preface I started this memoir when I was a patient on Unit 58, Neuro Rehabilitation, of the Foothills Medical Center in Calgary, Alberta. Sunday, September nineteenth, twenty ten I wrote these lines, “Dr. Manfred von Neumann was a prick. A very capable prick but a prick nonetheless. Manny, as he was known to his peers.” I…
I last saw Brandi when she was swimming with me in the VRRI pool. It was over the noon hour, January sixth, twenty eleven. She made the appointment for the swim at our last session just before Christmas twenty ten. Brandi was the Recreation Therapist assigned to me by the CAR program. I still remember…
I looked up into chocolate eyes. Like mine. But much darker. A face soft, smooth, rounded. Shortish hair curled in disarray. She spoke. “Hi. Are you Lyle?” “Yes.” She said, “My name is Monick. I am assigned as your Occupational Therapist. Do you know what Occupational Therapy entails?” “No.” “The official party line is that…
