My Uncle Malcolm

My uncle Malcolm is eighty-one years old. He lives in a nice house in a nice suburb of Toronto with a nice backyard and a nice dog and a nice wife. He’s from where I’m from, and — like me — he landed in Toronto in his early twenties. We have a lot of things … Continue reading My Uncle Malcolm

Accents

Accents

It’s a little after 9am. Thick orbs of morning sunlight are bouncing off the snow in the garden. I’m standing cracking eggs into a bowl and swirling lukewarm coffee around a mug as tinny hold music bleats at me from across the room. I’d half given up on getting through to anyone at the insurance … Continue reading Accents

Tae a Dobber

My husband laughs at a story I’ve just told, then pauses and says in his Canadian accent: “Wait — what’s a ‘roaster’?” I think about it. What is a roaster? It’s one of those words that has been ingrained in my memory for so long that whatever formal definition it once had — "noun (singular): … Continue reading Tae a Dobber