The Reindeer Keeper

 My son  Brian & I had been thinking about getting a kitten for the longest time but there was always a reason why we put it off. Truth is those reasons were just excuses. My excuses. The thought of bringing a kitten into our home exhausted me. I did not welcome the responsibility. Besides Brian wanting us to get a kitten, so did my two grandchildren, ages 11 and 14. I would keep telling them "Pretty soon." Then they would get busy, or I would get busy, and it never happened. Until this past week. Another summer was quickly passing by and soon, I told myself, they would not bother to ask about going for a kitten. They'd have more important things to do. And so, late one morning this past week, after telling Brian what I was up to, I picked those two grandchildren up. I said we were going to lunch and then maybe Alex Bay for the afternoon. After having our lunch, I told them I had to make a quick trip to Walmart. Once inside, I put a few things in my cart. Then I led ...

I loved paper dolls. I had a shoebox full of them. I kept the shoebox in the bottom drawer of an old dresser in my bedroom. Sometimes I'd sit on the floor and play out scenarios with them. I named each one of them.They were like little friends to me. None were licensed characters. None came with sparkly outfits. They were just paper dolls. And that was all I needed. Most of my paper dolls came from Newberry's or Woolworths. It was always fun when shopping for paper dolls. Of course, Santa Claus made sure to bring me even more. It was exciting when deciding which outfit each of my paper dolls would be wearing. Sometimes they'd have to change more than once during a scenario depending on what they were doing. They always had lots of fun whether going to the beach or school, on a picnic or visiting friends or taking care of their puppies or kittens. Whatever they were doing, they were fashionably dressed for the occasion. One evening, like many other evenings, I had my ...

I'm drawn to remnants of places sitting in silence along country roads. As I drive by the haunting structures, I wonder who'd lived there. I wonder why they left. I wonder how they walked away. Each one of the abandoned places has a story. Just like we do. When you think about it, most of us have been abandoned in one way or another at some point in our lives by someone we loved, by a boss, a friend or a community. My first realization of abandonment came when my aunt cared for a foster child. A little baby. I might have been twelve at the time. I never knew babies were ever abandoned. I thought they were loved to the moon and back by parents who tended to their every need. I thought they were rocked to sleep in their mother's arms smelling of talcum powder, covered in a soft, precious blanket. It was a rude awakening, followed by another. My sister found a puppy all alone, cold and shaking and hungry in one of the bins in my grandfather's grain shed. I never kne...