Thursday, January 11, 2007

Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow

It’s a clear night and downtown Burlington glitters across the lake. Down the hill, the traffic light at Highway 8 and Millen blinks from red to green. The big front window in my living room reflects the low, yellow light from lamps and the soft shimmer of my Christmas tree. The furnace rumbles and sighs through floor vents while Marko chortles in his sleep. I click out a few new paragraphs on the computer, but otherwise the house is still.

I didn’t put any clothes or linens in the washing machine today. I didn’t sweep the floor, mop the bathroom, or wipe down the stove. I slept until noon and read a novel in the living room, then warmed up a pork roast in the oven for Marko to eat when he came home from school. I stirred some instant coffee into boiling water and ate a toasted bagel.

That’s what I did until Marko came home and my mother called. I talked with her on the phone. She says my brother is fine, but it’s hard to tell if you can’t see his face. She says Aunt Brenda is sick but won’t go to the doctor. And Grandmargaret is happy because it snowed on Tuesday, and she likes to see the flaky fairyland slough down through the air.

It snowed here on Tuesday too, but nothing stuck. Canadians are happy with their mild winter, except for the ones who work at ski resorts. Even though I’ve lived here for a year, I still like to see the snow just like my grandmother does. It’s still novel, magical to me. Maybe if I had to get up and go to work everyday like normal people, I wouldn’t like slushing through the snow. Maybe.

It’s January 11, 2007, and the good folks down at Immigration Canada are processing applications for permanent residency that they received on March 27, 2006. They received my application on April 9th, and I’m hoping that they’ll process my application by the end of February. After all, I am getting a little bit bored.


mad said...

All you need is a beach and you'd be all set! I really miss your writing, I really do.

girlspit said...

Thanks. You know I love your haiku.

Dad said...

We ran across some more of your poetry whilst cleaning up some bookshelves the other day. I can hear some of it in your first paragraph.

You really are good at it, you know.

Paul said...

Good luck in Canuckistan ! :)