I have a story

It can be non-linear

Occasionally illogical

Often melancholy

Marginally beautiful

And forever evolving

If I were to give it a title

I’d call it ‘Life’

If I were to set it into chapters

They would be named

For those

I have loved or hated or both

Or taught me things about myself

If I were to number the pages

They would be infinite

For time began

before I could start counting

And my time will end

before I can stop counting

The spine would be made

To store feeling and sensations

And the covers would reflect

Not beginning and end

But rather the gifts inside

Where those intersecting stories

Can abide for awhile

While they write their story too

I am an open book

And if I am read carefully

You will see you reside their too

©️Entirety 2018

Christmas is coming and the goose is already fat.

My Christmas’s (Christmases?) were pretty epic growing up.  I was the spoiled youngest daughter of three and I can’t say I had a bad Christmas… like ever.  I remember the Christmas Eve visits we’d drive from grandmas, to aunty’s and to more grandmas. We ate cabbage rolls, perogies, Mennonite food I don’t know how to spell and a butt ton of cookies and chocolate.  (I said butt on purpose.)


And Christmas mornings… I remember waiting on the top of the stairs, the glow of the Christmas tree, anxious to see if Santa left his footprint in the fireplace bed of rocks like he did every year right before he took a swig of brandy we always left him.  (Yes brandy, we skipped the milk and cookies in our household.)  Grandma and my Great Aunty Vicki would come over early and then we could open gifts. Grandma always handmade our nighties, and my parents (most likely my extravagant father) was responsible for some pretty memorable gifts.


But it if I was truthful, the most memorable thing about my Christmas’s growing up was the music.  We had an old organ that my dad would play; he would play German carols, your standard Christmas carols and all the silly ones inbetween.  We would sit and sing, my dad and I, and we’d listen to Boney M, Roger Whittaker, and then later Mannheim Steamroller.  Every Christmas Eve we’d fall asleep to gentle classical music played on CBC and if we woke in the middle of the night, it would still be playing to remind us it was a special night.  In the morning  we listened to Handel’s Messiah,  later in Bible College I had the privilege of singing Handel’s Messiah with a mass choir, my parents drove 7 hours to see that.  Music was always apart of my upbringing, but Christmas in that regards always took the cake.  (And not the Christmas cake… can’t stand the stuff.)

My favourite as a child though was always John Denver and the Muppets.  Miss Piggy, Kermit and all the gang singing and making us laugh.  As of late my kids and I have been listening to it on repeat, and I thought I’d share with you.

Christmas is just hours away and we’ll soon get ready for an Eve of romantic lights, good food and wine with family.  And the music will play, and I’ll think of my dad and how he always brought light and life into our holidays.


Christmas as is coming and we are already filled up, but still making room for more….more memories, more laughter and more love.


…And no Kevin, the title of this post has nothing to do with you. 😉

©️Entirety 2018