One more evening by the water
The children are growing into their own conversations, their own plans. Sitting here, listening to them tease each other, I felt how much of a family is made of simply turning up together.
Your stories belong here.
YOUR PERSONAL COLLECTION
Twenty pieces of Avatar Wife’s life. Sixteen shared with family, four kept close.
The children are growing into their own conversations, their own plans. Sitting here, listening to them tease each other, I felt how much of a family is made of simply turning up together.
I sat down with a book and let the tea go cold. Usually I read in the spaces between other things. Today I made reading the thing, and I want to remember that I can do that.
The snacks disappeared before the first round ended. Nobody checked the time until the game was nearly over. I like evenings that quietly make themselves longer.
I collected photographs of everyone's sandy shoes. They tell the story almost as well as the view. We arrived home tired, with a cooler full of leftovers and several new favourite places.
I painted the same pear three times and liked the last one best. For an hour I wasn't organising anything for anyone. Keeping this private feels like keeping a little corner of the afternoon for myself.
They made a menu and asked us to dress up a little. Halfway through dinner, we told them the story of meeting in Vancouver in 1998. They requested the funny version.
I tried to take a steady photograph, but I was smiling too much. He looked for us before he started. I hope he always knows where to find us in the crowd.
This recipe came from my childhood kitchen. We finally copied it onto a fresh card, with the children's notes in the margins. Now the stains belong to two generations.
At the end of the year, we talked about her favourite books and the projects she wanted to try next. I wanted to remember that mixture of pride and possibility. This sample report gives that story a place.
Every room had a purpose, including a room almost entirely for books. I wanted to save more than a picture of a craft project. I wanted us to remember how carefully she had imagined a place for everyone.
I grew up in Victoria, but walking here with my own children made everything feel different. I told them about Saturday afternoons by the harbour and the bus ride I used to take home.
There were scraps of paper everywhere, but she knew exactly which pieces she still needed. I especially love the butterfly. It has the hopeful shape of something made without worrying about perfection.