we have a saying here in apartment 605: “when the soy milk has expired, it must be consumed posthaste.”
we had thanksgiving dinner this year. mum, dad, alex and i. even judy came down from montreal. it was so nice. we cooked a giant turkey. we laughed, and enjoyed each other’s company. i was overjoyed at being surrounded by people whom i loved.
but one of my favourite moments from that wonderful night was when i was standing at the stove, making the gravy. my father was at the sink washing the dishes that had been dirtied so far. as we stood back to back, i stirring and he scrubbing, a tiny little soap bubble from his washing up drifted in front of me. it shimmered under the bright overhead light. it floated by me, and then off on its way.