A few weeks ago, my mother, who coordinates a programme for seniors in Ottawa called Creative Connections, held a reading of my work for the programme’s participants.
I wasn’t there.
My mum read for me: my short story A Treat (excerpt here), and two non-fiction pieces, Maman’s Hands and Sunborrowers and Watering Cans.
The positive response is humbling; « they want more! » shares my mum by email.
They meet once a week – I better get writing.
Newest writing challenge: write a short piece of non-fiction, no more than 100 words, ensuring to name actual names. Here’s a result:
Rohan becomes an iPad expert as soon as we get one, familiarizing himself with the apps and identifying his favourites. While I struggle to find what I need on the apparatus, Rohan swishes through the screens, surfing YouTube with one finger. We quietly confer with our Apple devices side by side, too often for hours before we interact again. Despite his own easy grasp of technology, he won’t let me indulge: he shuts my laptop onto my fingers and grabs them in his, saying: “Maman, cow.” And my toddler and I play with his toy farm until dinner.