Every now and again, we got really loud with an eruption where we all talked or laughed at the same time, garnering us a few looks from other diners, but none of the unfavourable sort.
So it’s no wonder when someone interjected that I buried, ignored or plain forgot the cautionary statement.
I was plunked on the potty and I looked up and saw a porthole.
It didn’t make sense because it was half under water.
My fork is halfway to my mouth with egg, mushroom and toast concoction on it.
She does not answer, and instead, she tells me she is Jamaican, perhaps as explanation for what is to come. I recognize the lilt in her voice and the confidence of her posture and stance. To tease and withhold, to tangle and unwind, to probe and to retreat.
* My plane spends a good long length of time being de-iced before queuing us up to depart.
Seemed the night before someone had pressed pause on spring in exchange for the scourge of winter. The fickleness of Halifax weather notwithstanding, it is still a shock. So balmy was it, in fact, that on my way out the door, confident of clear skies ahead, I’d slipped on shoes, rather than rain or snow boots, and a light spring jacket.
And even again, later, when my little cave was filled up to the brim, the couch crowded with these women who’d agreed to come to my place for a nightcap, one of them may have reissued the warning, But I disregarded it a second time.