Facets

[vaneramos]

Marian in Kensington Market yesterday


Does anything else feel like watching one's children grow: that combination of pride and poignancy? I've heard there's nothing worse than losing a child. I almost lost them once, but now they're old enough that no one can come between us against our will. Maybe that makes it easier watching mortality transform them. A butterfly in the hand is only half beautiful; you have to let it fly to see its magic.

Marian stands on the threshold of adulthood. She tells me things that make me feel privileged. Seeing and listening to her is like watching my own life through a crystal: facets of similarity and of difference.

This afternoon on Queen Street, we practically walked into my lovely niece, Robyn. How does that happen, in a city of 2.5 million? She is working two part-time jobs on Queen Street now, but we didn't know that. Robyn and Marian both inherited my mother's beauty and way of drawing attention, although Marian is quieter about it.

In the car we listened to VNV Nation, Rufus Wainwright, Goldfrapp, Abba. She pointed to the full moon rising on her side, then we turned a corner and drove toward it for half an hour.