Tuesday, April 26, 2016


April 19

My life is in pieces.  Literally.  Under the work bench in the garage, I dusted off six boxes of April's mosaic tools.  Beside that, were piled stacks and stacks of square tiles. I remember her hunched over a project, working out there til the wee hours. I'd see her through the garage window - mosquito net on her head, forgotten cigarette burned down in the ashtray, CBC playing on the ghetto blaster.  I still use that bug hat when I mow the lawn.

1 comment:

  1. Heidi, the visual on this journal page is outstanding. It just pops off the page. You are a genius!