I can see it if I keep my head held high
Arms open wide
Heart full, clear eyes
All the doubts all the lies are too heavy to hold so why even try?
You don't have to do this all on your own
This fragile life that you hold is too heavy to carry alone so why even try?
All of the doubts
All of the lies
All of the fears
All of the tears that you've cried
Are too heavy to carry alone
So why even try?
On a day that saw the ferries stop coming to Horseshoe Bay, the world suddenly got quiet. I can hear the waves break on the rocks. I can hear my neighbour's giant wind-chimes way up the hill. I can hear the transitions in vocals in the Colony House album I'm listening to (Leave What's Lost Behind) and I can hear Ben's exasperated breathing as he argues quietly into the phone fifteen feet back from shore, content to accompany me but only if he can get his calls done outside and far from the house, where surprisingly the wi-fi is a little better than it is inside.
I wonder when the ferries will come back. I wonder when the Man will stop telling me how many loaves of bread I can buy in one shopping trip. I wonder when gas will go back over a dollar a litre and I wonder if I should put all of my cash in the washing machine in case it's diseased like the outside world. In case you're from away, our Canadian dollar bills are flexible plastic rectangles that smell like maple syrup and are fully washable.
It's worth nothing now. Clean or not. No one will accept it, it's only worth something like sixty-five cents to every American dollar it's matched to and I'm really beginning to hate all of this.
I still don't fear getting this virus, though my ear is feeling better and my allergies are now moving in to take centre stage. The cherry blossoms in the orchard are blooming and I wait with zero patience for the lilac buds to fill in and open up, filling the whole point with the most beautiful perfume in the world. I wait to sow my vegetable seeds in the garden so I can gather what I need for dinner without two trips down the highway. I wait for life to resume at the pace I complained so bitterly about before. I wait for Ben to finish his endless work and I wish I could help him finish sooner. I wait for Duncan to straighten back up, never expecting that he would have cracked first out of all of us.
I wait for the ghosts to come back but I haven't heard anything for ages.
I wonder when the ferries will come back. I wonder when the Man will stop telling me how many loaves of bread I can buy in one shopping trip. I wonder when gas will go back over a dollar a litre and I wonder if I should put all of my cash in the washing machine in case it's diseased like the outside world. In case you're from away, our Canadian dollar bills are flexible plastic rectangles that smell like maple syrup and are fully washable.
It's worth nothing now. Clean or not. No one will accept it, it's only worth something like sixty-five cents to every American dollar it's matched to and I'm really beginning to hate all of this.
I still don't fear getting this virus, though my ear is feeling better and my allergies are now moving in to take centre stage. The cherry blossoms in the orchard are blooming and I wait with zero patience for the lilac buds to fill in and open up, filling the whole point with the most beautiful perfume in the world. I wait to sow my vegetable seeds in the garden so I can gather what I need for dinner without two trips down the highway. I wait for life to resume at the pace I complained so bitterly about before. I wait for Ben to finish his endless work and I wish I could help him finish sooner. I wait for Duncan to straighten back up, never expecting that he would have cracked first out of all of us.
I wait for the ghosts to come back but I haven't heard anything for ages.