When the first crisp kick of autumn air hits my lungs, I’m taken right back: Pink Pearl erasers,  pinchy new shoes, and a schoolbag full...

When my mother died, she left behind boxes of minutiae and memories, among them: programs from every play I’d done, all her driver’s...

I wish I could say I returned home to Toronto and got right down to fanning my newly rekindled writing spark after visiting Harriet that...

In July 1989, with a couple of days off from a Second City tour, I guided my rental car along a mind-numbingly straight Manitoba highway;...

They soar past my house, down the path of the riverway below. Three synchronized feathered skeletons, broad wings outstretched, doing a...

Harriet had hung up on me. I knew I wouldn’t hear from her again. My heart sat, a tight tiny rock in my chest. Instead of helping, I...

Moira collapsed onto the warm summer grass between her mother and father, awash in autumn sunshine and sweat. Who knew burying your...