Middle Pages

The years between 1997 and 2006 were the most authentic years I’ve ever lived, the years in which I was most present, and most rooted.   They were the years between the ages of 35 and 44 for me; 4 and 13 for my daughter.   They were the years when she and I were the most important people in each other’s lives. The years before I brought someone new into our world. The years before she did. They were the years when we had no one but each other. We were a family of two. Eventually we would get a cat, who would extend our circle of love. Three girls we were; utterly devoted to each other.   Girls for whom paradise was coming together again at the end of a busy day: taking comfort in the warmth and weight of each other’s bodies: the three of us sharing a couch, sharing a bed, making a life. I remember well one Victoria Day weekend.   My daughter was maybe 5 or 6. Clocks had sprung forward. The days were longer now. Children played on the street until 9 o’clock. Summer was around the

Over the Christmas holidays, I spent time travelling like many do, to see family and loved ones.  Last night in the middle of a deep freeze, I embarked on the four hour trek from my mother’s home back to my own.  Partway through the journey, I experienced some car trouble and pulled off the highway into a gas station. With all the auto repair shops having closed for the night, I decided my only option was to check into a hotel.  I am not sure when the man began following me.  Was it in the gas station where I lifted the hood of my car? The Canadian Tire parking lot? The hotel lobby? I will never know…but what I’d already thought was turning out to be a disastrous evening was going to get worse. Because I was travelling with my dog Georgie, the hotel clerk assigned me to a “pet-friendly” room in a building that was separate from the main hotel.  It was a short drive behind the main building to a smaller building that had its own parking lot- dark and empty.  I was too frazzled from