A Dark, Dark Day

A Dark, Dark Day

He’s propped up on a pillow, hooked up to an IV and a heart monitor. I can scarcely see him through the crooks of elbows and nodding heads of the white-coats (four interns, one doctor, one nurse), all crowded at the foot of his bed, staring down...

Says Tommy

Says Tommy

I close my eyes, breathing out the stuffy hospital air in the waiting room, try to picture Dad dressed in his ski-doo suit and riding his ski-doo over the downs, the wind rushing past his ears and his mind free, free, free. I hear the shuffling...

Missing Dad

Missing Dad

September 13, Day before moose-hunting season starts in Newfoundland. From Hampden, the tiny outport where I grew up and where my father still resides, I can hear the primal beating of his heat straight across the Gulf of ST. Lawrence into the...