I was a young, impressionable twenty-year-old living in Calgary making new friends. Paula and her husband Peter were two of those new friends. They were from England with those lovely posh accents, and were about ten years older. A bit more sophisticated than me, or so I thought, but we became fast friends.

One day I’m walking downtown and see Peter approaching. Such a nice-looking guy with his blond curly shoulder-length hair. Wearing the coolest bell bottom pants and funky jacket. His sunglasses made him look even more like a movie star. He stopped to chat. We didn’t often get a chance because whenever we saw each other it was at a party. So it was nice to get to know him a bit better.

The following week I’m having lunch with Paula and she says to me ‘Peter tells me he bumped into you last week.’

‘Yeah. What a cool guy.’

‘Yes. He told me you guys chatted up a storm. He also said he thinks you’re charming.’

Say what?

I’m charming?

Is that right?

That sounds awfully good.

And quite possibly grown up.

I wanted to ask Paula what prompted him to say this. What did I do to make him think I was charming? Because whatever it was, I’d like to keep doing it.

But I couldn’t ask her because I thought she might think I was fishing for another compliment. Oh good grief - being twenty was tough.

I never did ask her.

But I know how it made me feel.

It was one word. Just. One. Word. CHARMING.

How could one random comment make me feel so special? And seen.

It changed me in ways I never could have imagined. Even fifty years later, it’s still with me.

He was looking at me from across the promenade.

I think he was looking at me.

I hoped he was looking at me.

I scanned the rest of the promenade. No one else was around. He was definitely looking at me.

He’s my age if he’s a day. Good looking. Confident. Dressed in light blue jeans, white t-shirt with a navy jacket. His white hair contrasted his tanned face.

He’s definitely looking at me. Right? I’m pretty sure.

Anyway, I sat there waiting patiently while he sauntered over.

He’s coming straight for me. His smile is gorgeous and he asks if he can sit down. I almost got up to push the chair in for him.

Be still my heart!

Then he opened his mouth.

What just happened?

I wanted him.

I got him.

But now I don’t want him.

All within 30 seconds.

My brain is working overtime and I’m mapping out how to handle this-this-this cad.

“You come here often?”

I swear to gawd.

That’s what he said.

Followed by:

“And you’re sitting here not smiling.”

Dude. Do you hear yourself?

It seemed he had a million of these ridiculous one-liners and wasn’t going to stop until I engaged with him.

So what do I do now?

Well it turns out a Seventy-year-old-woman can do anything she likes.

I stood up. Pushed my chair in. And walked away.

For seventy years, I have never been out of a relationship. Not for a single day.

Brenda.

Barry and Brenda.

Barry.

I knew Brenda for sixty-six years—just two months shy of sixty-seven. And that doesn’t even count the nine months we spent as womb-mates. Of course we were going to be close. That’s just the truth of it. Ask any twin.

Then I met Barry in mid 1993. That relationship lasted for almost 32 years. Overlapping Brenda.

I didn’t take to marriage right away. I often still confided in Brenda more than Barry. I found it difficult to confide in Barry about some of the things I always confided in Brenda.

I once asked Barry if he found marriage tough. He didn’t. Huh.

I was always so independent and did as I pleased and now I had to consider a husband. I don’t know how other people coped but I remember it taking me a while. But little by little I learned to trust him. Appreciate how he didn’t try to change me. As a matter of fact he was one of my biggest fans. That surprised me. And of course made me happy. Ya gotta love a guy who loves you just the way you are and actually that’s why he married you.

Neither relationship was easy but Brenda and I learned this early on. We would fight - a lot - but for the life of me I can’t remember now what we used to fight about. But we always made up or more like we just carried on immediately after the fight as though it never happened. We said our peace and life moved on.

Being a twin taught me how to be a wife. Specifically, we learned how to compromise and communicate and always consider each other.

So here I am, now at 70 years old without a relationship. First time in my life.

To the degree that I miss them is staggering.

When Bren was sick, Barry was getting a bit sicker and I remember thinking - he’ll be ok because I couldn’t lose him too. There’s no way this could happen to me.

But you want to know the worst of it? I couldn’t tell Brenda - the person I would tell everything to. And that’s because she would have worried about me. I couldn’t do that to her.

So, it began - our relationship was falling away long before she passed. The sadness would just envelope me but I had to keep it to myself. My container of secrets was disappearing.

My inner circle was shrinking.

How did this happen? We never imagined this could happen to us. We thought we’d grow old together.

Not too long after she passed, there was no denying that Barry’s cancer was now terminal. We’d gone for so many years - 7 in fact - where they just kept giving him different drugs to keep his cancer at bay. Of course that couldn’t last but you just never allowed yourself to think about it.

But reality hit like a ton of bricks - Barry was going to die. I just remember thinking that I was in a dream. A bad dream. This cannot be real.

It was inconceivable.

And yet, it was real.

So here I am now - without a relationship. Yes I have friends and family and extended family. And I am so grateful for that. But no one is Brenda or Barry.

There has never been a moment in my life when I wasn’t in a relationship. That I didn’t have an inner circle that no one else belonged to but the three of us.

There are times I walk around our apt and think - how did I get here? How did this happen?

I find myself surprised that I’ve never been alone. Truth be told, I’m a bit embarrassed about that for some reason. I started to ask myself - does this mean that I haven’t been as independent as I thought I was?

It also makes me wonder - who am I without being a twin or a wife? Who is Debbie Dunne with these two very important relationships now gone?

I remember as a very young teen, writing a poem titled: Who Am I? I guess I’ve always been interested in finding the meaning of life and how I fit into it. The search continues.

My circle has collapsed.

HELL

Just when I thought I was in hell - there was yet another hell around the corner.

Hell #1

When we received Barry’s blood work it indicated such a decline that they expected he’d be gone within a month.

Hell #2

He survives the month. The hell part is when the doctors look surprised and change the prognosis to ‘weeks.’ How many weeks? Anybody’s guess.

Hell #3

He asks to go into hospice. Again, not a hell. You’re relieved. It was getting to be too much. So then what is Hell #3? Leaving your husband at the hospice and go home. Alone. Knowing he will never ever come home again. He’s in hospice and I’m home. That’s its own special kind of hell.

Hell #4

He decides to take the palliative meds to allow himself to sleep through the pain, restlessness and fear. You’re actually happy he made that decision. So what’s the hell part? Saying goodbye.

Hell #5

He passes. He’s gone. Life feels lopsided. And cruel.

Hell #6

You bury him. He is now forever gone. If you didn’t accept it before, you have no choice now.

Is there a Hell #7?

I can’t say I’m in Hell #7 but it’s definitely unsettling. Life now begins without Barry. We’ve been married 29 years.

What’s to come? I don’t know. And maybe not knowing right now is ok. Maybe I just let life unfold quietly, gently… and see what happens.

Sadly, Barry passed away on Tuesday at The Carpenter Hospice. He was 72 years old.

He was a simple man. He didn’t like a lot of attention. He was shy, so he only had a small circle of people in his world — just the way he liked it.

So when he began to talk about the end and what he wanted, he was very clear. He only needed three people with him when he drew his last breath: his daughter Jenn, his sister Susan, and me.

We honoured his request.

He was proud of his daughter and her family. Barry loved his son-in-law, Eric. And the apple of his eye were his grandchildren. He loved them beyond measure. He was endlessly entertained by what new things they were discovering. Andrew at 11 years old was becoming quite the entrepreneur. He engaged in most sports and Barry really loved going to the ball diamond to watch him play. Makayla is 8 years old and is enjoying the artistic side of life. She gifted us some of her artwork and I was the recipient of some of her jewellery. She’s even just taught herself crocheting. And she does love her friends. Being with people gives her a kind of energy.

Barry was a funny man. And to me this was one of his funniest moments. I asked him to leave me his GPS chip because my twin-sister Brenda didn’t when she passed. He humorously answers: ‘Oh no, I’m going to find Brenda, grab some popcorn, and we’re going to get front-row seats to watch you. I’ll whisper to her, ‘Watch this — she’s going to turn left when she should turn right,’ and then we’ll laugh and laugh.’

He made me laugh. Often. I always wished he would let everyone see that side of him but he was shy and quiet. And quite frankly didn’t need the attention. As a matter of fact, he said the sweetest thing to me…’It’s enough for me that you find me funny’. Be still my heart.

His first love was music. All things music. Drumming. Jamming with friends. Doing the odd gig at their high school. Concerts. Just imagine seeing Jimi Hendrix at the tender age of 14 - wow! He went on to see many more concerts over his lifetime – Jefferson Airplane, Jeff Beck, Led Zeppelin, Tina Turner, the list goes on.

He took up photography after he retired from Stelco in 2005. I loved how he captured the best of the outdoors. He brought the outside inside and filled our walls with his beautiful photos.

As a matter of fact, in 2008 one of his photos was chosen for the Mayor’s Gala. He felt like a celebrity :) when he had to sign 100 copies. And then just last year, another photo was chosen for the Mayor of Burlington’s 2026 calendar. His was a fall photo and was chosen for the month of September. Auspicious because his daughter was born in September.

He loved Jim Croce’s Photographs & Memories because he lived it. ‘Not a day goes by when I don’t have a song in my head and a photograph in my mind.’

And I wouldn’t be doing justice to Barry if I didn’t mention his grit. His quiet grit. The last two years had been challenging once the cancer spread to his bones. We wondered how much time he had. We came to learn that there are only guesses at best.

January 29th his bloodwork indicated a marked decline. Consequently, they thought he only had about a month. And then the month came and went. And on March 5th another prognosis – weeks. So what did he do? He dared himself to ‘dip my toe into April’. Why April? Because it was stretching the bounds of the weeks prognosis, of course. No one was going to tell him when he was going to go.

So, he not only dipped his toe into April but decided a nice little swim would be his reward. And on April 7th he quietly passed away.

But 26 hours before he took his last breath he asked to be sedated. He was tired. His decision. His timeline. The sedation did not hasten his passing. But rather it gave him much needed peace.

His grit knew no bounds.

So, my man - this family man - this quietly strong man did it his way.

Quiet in nature. Strong in spirit. Forever in our hearts.

Yesterday I was rushing to get home after my quick little grocery run. What’s the rush, you ask? Well, I’m going home to chitty chatty with my buddy. Tell him about all the goings on in the store. Because, truth be told, I don’t write about everything that happens to me in a grocery store. I do, however, tell Barry everything. I often wonder if he knows just how lucky he is? And by the way, he’s the best listener ever! Sometimes he listens with his eyes closed but he assures me he can still hear me.

So, I missed an opportunity and now my brain refuses to let this tiny nothing-moment go. And I can’t get it out of my head. By the way, this is the reason I do what I do in grocery stores because if I don’t satisfy my curiosity, then it’s all I can think of for days to come.

Case in point. Yesterday, I saw the tallest woman in the land. Like I mean seriously tall. And skinny. She had to be 6’8” if she was an inch. I didn’t have time to look waaay up to see her face. So I wouldn’t recognize her again. Well, except that she’s seriously tall, of course.

And just as she caught my eye I saw her walking away from someone even taller. And just as thin. I’m betting he was 7’.

This is going to sound weird - but this guy’s butt was the smallest butt on a grown man I’d ever seen. And by the way, I could almost bite it, he was that tall. No I didn’t want to, I just said I could. Just giving you a visual as to how tall he was, that’s all.

Where did these people come from?

My first question should have been - how did you find each other?

Oh wait a minute, how can you not find each other, would be the better question.

I began to have different scenarios going on in my head.

The not so interesting one would be that they were siblings. Boring. Though it would explain a lot.

Another scenario is that they found each other because they didn’t notice anyone else under 6’5”. How could they?

My favourite is that there’s a dating app for very tall people. But you have to also be pencil thin and have small butts.

An obvious scenario would be they are basketball players.

What are the odds of meeting your crazy-tall height match?

Oh how I wanted to ask them. Do you think they would have appreciated my curiosity? I’m not so sure.

But what I am sure about is I’m better off asking and engaging people rather than wishing I did. Even when I do make an ass of myself. I’ve learned over the many decades I’ve been on this planet that embarrassment is better than regret. Every. Single. Time.

The world must look different when you’re that tall. You see everyone’s bald spots. You’re always being asked to get something down from the top shelf. You gotta keep your nose clean, no I mean literally, for obvious reasons.

I also started wondering what sex is like when you’re that tall? Probably the same, right? Except all legs and arms. Or what about a 5’ person with a 7’ person? Ok ok I’m going in a different direction here. I’ll ponder all this later. By myself.

If I’d only asked one of them their deal I wouldn’t be coming up with all these different scenarios.

I just hope they weren’t siblings because that would ruin everything.

You’d never know it but I really don’t like grocery shopping. I know I know I write about it a lot. But stuff just happens to me in grocery stores. I can’t help it.

At least it was a bit better when Barry used to come with me. I had a buddy who disliked it as much as I did. Even though he liked to zoom through a little faster than me. I like to see what’s on sale, he likes to just buy what’s on our list and get the heck out of Dodge. Men and women are just so different, aren’t they?

Barry would often say to me we’re not stopping to look at anything else! You don’t get the rules, Honey.

Anyway, one of the other things Barry really disliked was when I pulled out my phone’s calculator. Oh no Deb, please, not this again!

You see there are many different kleenex packages – there’s the 3 ply, 2 ply, single ply (be careful of those singles, they are ridiculous). And what about the number of tissues in each box? And how many boxes are in each package? Lots to cipher.

Once I do the ciphering for one package I have to remember the unit price down to the fourteen-thousandth of a cent: 0.010403645833333. (Don't worry, I only memorize the first four decimals. I'm not a crazy person).

I look around and Barry’s gone. I wonder why he left.

I found him in the soup aisle. He’s standing there looking at all the choices. Without a calculator no less. How difficult can this be? I fly over there, pick up 2 cans and off we go. Honestly, some people just don’t know how to make their shopping experience easier.

On this particular day Barry wasn’t with me. Yay I can stand there ciphering until my heart’s content with no judgy eyeballs staring at me. I’m working on the kleenex. Of course. When some rather good looking older guy comes up and says to me - so which one is the better deal?

I’m flattered. He noticed how hard I’ve been working at this and trusts me to tell him the best deal.

As I grab my choice I enthusiastically advise him that this is the one!!!

He picks one up and starts to leave.

As he’s walking away with what now looks like a bit of a smirk - I say to him - if you want more deals just follow me around the store.

Oh oh – it’s one of those moments when your mouth moves before your brain checks in, and instantly your internal voice groans: Why in the ever-loving hell would I say that?

I mean, am I nuts? But in my defence, I did think it was funny. I have learned, the hard way, over the years, that not all my jokes land. I’ve probably learned this lesson more times than I’d care to admit, which is a lot because I sure do admit to a lot of crazy stuff.

Worst part - buddy doesn’t even turn around and give me a smile, a wave, a snort. Nothing. Which of course made it even more cringeworthy.

It is really a shame they don’t have floors that open up and swallow you whole.

And by the way, Buddy never even thanked me. For all my ciphering. For saving him money. Oh crap, you know what just occurred to me - I should have told him he’d save a ton by buying the more expensive one. Shoot! I wish I’d thought of that! Now that would be funny, if only in my own head. Because let’s face it, I do live in my head. A lot!

So the dude took my deal and saved himself a whopping 70 cents and didn’t even thank me. I hope he gets a toothache.

P.S. Yes, there’s a PS to this story. Because after reading this to Barry he quickly says…

You can’t post that!

Uhm, why not?

Because you sound like a crazy person!

Really? Do you think so? But it actually did happen.

I know, but still Deb.

Ok so what if I tell everyone that I stopped doing this about a month or so ago. Would that make it better?

Maybe.

But I’m thinking they may not believe me. And now I’ll have to write another story about that. You see my dilemma, right?

I’m out!

These are our conversations. Don’t judge me!

Aaargh I have to go to the grocery store again. Worst job ever. Well, second to cooking. I can hardly wait to become a bazillionaire so I can hire people to do this for me!

But I’m in good spirits today for some reason even though I’m doing my most unfavourite job. On the planet.

I’m not in the door 5 seconds when an older woman turns and says to me - how am I supposed to buy romaine lettuce when there’s just 5 left and they’re all brown. Right??? So we stand around commiserating about that for a few minutes.

And just as I’m about to continue - somebody else is complaining to me about the lettuce. What do I look like - Dear Abby? He tells me he’s got a party tonight and needs it. I try to sound like I care, but I don’t. You’re on your own dude.

Off I go looking for some peppers. But just before I get there a woman grabs a huge bag of onions. I’m curious - what can you possibly make with all those onions? So, I asked her. She explained that she keeps them in the garage and they last for months. The hell you say. Huh. Who knew? No I really mean, who knew? Then another woman chimes in and says, I do the same for carrots. What?

You know, food stores could replace schools. For real.

So, I say to both of them - well I don’t have a garage - can I put them on my balcony? Yes, if it’s not too cold. OK, now I’m out. I have no idea what TOO COLD means? See, I had this problem in school too. It’s happening all over again. The second woman must have seen my deer-caught-in-the-headlights look because she waited for me to finish with the other woman and gave me a huge tip about putting them in clothes bins on her balcony. Ok I’m back in business.

I’m realizing that I’m a bit of a magnet today with all the interactions. It’s funny how when I stop hating the errand, everyone seems to show up wanting to chat. Coincidence? I think not.

I head down an aisle that has large bags of potatoes on one side and baked goods on the other side. I know, it’s weird but somehow it works in this store.

Anyway, this thirty something woman asks me which potatoes are best for mashing? How the hell should I know? Ok I didn’t really say that to her because remember, I’m in a good mood. So, I laugh - because it is kinda funny someone asking Debbie Dunne a cooking question. But, I said the politest thing I could think of - I have no idea. But that seemed inadequate to me so I took it upon myself to find the answer for her. This good mood of mine is showing up in weird ways.

I spot a woman who I’m certain will have the answer. So I tap her on the shoulder and ask if she can help us? When did this young woman’s potato question become an Us question? Clearly my good mood is the gift that just keeps on giving.

The young woman is a bit surprised that I brought someone over to fix OUR problem but she was grateful. I think. Or she probably was until the woman started talking. And talking. And talking.

I sure do know how to pick ‘em, that’s for sure. She didn’t just know all about potatoes but she also knew about baked goods. And I was about to get an education.

But as she was educating this young woman about potatoes I stood there like a ninny listening. Like it was my job to also get educated about potatoes. There’s something seriously wrong with me sometimes. So, I quietly moved over to the baked goods.

When she finished her potato lesson she made a beeline for me. She couldn’t wait to tell me just how much she loves cooking and especially baking. She now had another audience. Me. I’ve created a monster. But a well-meaning, kind monster.

And now I feel a lesson coming on. She’s lovely and I’m in a good mood so I politely listen. Like I said, this good mood of mine is taking me in yet another direction. I have a banana loaf in my hands and I’m immediately regretting my choice. It’s the potatoes all over again.

She shows me the sugar content on almost everything on the shelf including my banana bread. I can see it slipping from my fingers as we speak. She eventually finds something with less sugar and gives me permission to buy it. Well she doesn’t really give me permission - it just feels that way. So, I say to her - ok I’ll buy this but if my husband doesn’t like it I’m coming back to find you! She laughs. Not something I expected from her. She was kind of buttoned up and serious. And preachy. Not that preachy people can’t laugh but they often don’t because they’re too busy being preachy. But now that I know she laughs - all bets are off.

Out of the corner of my eye I catch a guy looking at us and laughing. I’m assuming he’s been listening while I’m getting schooled. He clearly thinks it’s funny. Interestingly, I’m not embarrassed - I think it’s because I’m too busy trying to please this total stranger and buy what she wants me to buy. And truth be told, her sincerity touched me.

Anyway, school’s over - I want to go home now so I start moving my cart away from her saying - now don’t follow me - I don’t want you seeing what I’m buying - you’ll be mortified. She laughs again. And we depart.

A little later I turned into an aisle, saw her, and quietly detoured — my version of hide and seek. Lovely woman but sometimes there’s only so much ‘lovely’ one can take. Plus I had some things in my cart that I was trying to hide just in case I bumped into her.

Yesterday, Barry and I were having a quiet, contemplative morning. We were feeling sad’ish. Is that a word - sad’ish? I guess what I mean is that we weren’t full-on sad but it was the underlying feeling.

After a morning of chatting we decided we’d like to go to the lake to sit by the water. Change of scenery - change of mindset. Possibly. Hopefully.

It’s also a quiet day. No wind. Traffic is very light. Sun is shining. Perfect.

Yay, our favourite muskoka chairs are free. I especially like them because my feet can touch the ground. Do you know how many chairs I sit in where my feet don’t touch the ground? All of them!!!

As we sit in these comfy chairs - there’s this big burly guy standing over this older couple talking very loudly. You can’t help but hear what he’s saying. He’s talking about politics. Oh no! So you know what you have to do next Deb - step away from the big burly man! Far away!

We head for the shady trail along the water but we can still hear his big booming voice. We continue until there’s peace.

There are lots of benches along this path. And new ones too. So excellent. We stroll and then sit. Stroll some more and sit some more. Ok I hear it too. This sounds beyond boring, doesn’t it? But it isn’t, interestingly. As we continue this routine Barry reflects - remember all the hiking we used to do? He misses those days. Camera in hand. His camera is heavy now. Well I guess it’s always been heavy but now he notices. Too heavy to walk any distance with. So, we’ve replaced hiking with strolling and sitting and strolling and sitting. Which it turns out - is all good! We do what we can. We are grateful for the strolls.

Then our peace is pierced with yet more voices. Two women sit on a bench, easily 50 feet away, and we can hear them. Not what they’re saying but their voices.

They clearly don’t get the rules - Shhhhh…just Shhhhh….We can hear you, you know. Oh you don’t care. Well that makes sense.

So we continue looking for other benches. Oh look they’ve installed two more and one is facing the sun. But before sitting we look at the plaques on the benches. They’ve been donated in memory of their loved ones. It made us sad though to read the one we sat on because he was younger than us. A moment to reflect.

We sat in peace and quiet and talked about everyday things. Did we talk of the future? Yes, a little but then we stopped and looked out over the water. The quiet, stillness of the water distracted us. For a moment.

I was watching a music documentary about Sir George Martin’s famous AIR Studios in Montserrat when one of the artists said the magic was in the spaces.

Mic drop!

The magic was in the spaces.

I knew exactly what he meant. Well not necessarily in the musical sense. I’m still working that one out.

But about writing, storytelling, relationships, life.

I immediately saw the wisdom in it.

When I write a story, I want the reader to feel my feelings. But how do I do that – without emojis?

With space, of course.

Such as short sentences. Dashes. Extra lines.

Whatever it takes to make space. You’ll see it sprinkled throughout this story. Well, all my stories, in fact.

Because that’s where the magic lives.

In the spaces.

It feels to me that if you want something magical to happen, you need to give it space.

Awhile ago, my brother had a family get together awhile ago and we sat around the kitchen table telling stories. We all gave each other space – to tell our stories.

Without space, there are no stories

Space was the magic ingredient.

It made me wonder – does this mean that everything needs space if there’s to be magic?

Yes. Emphatically yes!

Listening is space.

Space isn’t just about stories at a table. Sometimes it’s life and death.

When Brenda was sick, we had many moments when there was silence. Not every moment needed to be filled. It gave her space. To feel her feelings. Express her feelings. Reminisce. Imagine.

Just Be.

Without the space there wouldn’t be calmness. Introspection.

We need space to live. And to die.

And sometimes, space is exactly what gets taken away.

When Barry was first diagnosed with cancer, we were assigned a brilliant doctor. We felt lucky.

Until we didn’t.

I didn’t care about his reasons. I only cared about space—giving us space to ask questions.

This is how the appointments went:

Doctor enters.

Closes the door.

Stands by the door.

“How are you today, Barry?”

“Fine.” (Because that’s how polite society answers that question.)

Doctor’s hand moves back to the doorknob.

“Nurse will be in shortly with the injection.”

He was leaving.

How do we stop him?

Uhm—uhm—ah—

Gone.

See you at the next ten-second appointment.

What just happened?

Space denied.

He may have been brilliant, but he left no space.

And without space, there is nothing.

It may seem to some of you as though I don’t have a big life. Because it’s all centered around my little world of going grocery shopping and being at the ballpark with our grandchildren. And of course watching the goings on in our parking lot behind our building.

But I really do have a life. I swear! I challenge any of you to have a more interesting life than me!!! Ok I heard it too - I went a bit too far there didn’t I??

I’m participating in life from eight floors up - can you say the same?? And if you can, I don’t want to hear about it. You see, that would just upset me.

‘Deb, look at this woman trying to fit huge chair cushions into the already full garbage bin.’ I rushed to the kitchen window, because, you know, I have nothing else to do. And I like watching crazies.

It was quite entertaining to watch her try. She eventually managed it. I don’t know how it will work when Mr. Garbage Man comes but that’s for another day (and possibly story).

She has the front driver's door open and the back passenger door. And the trunk of her car. The last thing she takes out of her back seat is a walker. And I thought – no you don’t - that for sure won’t fit in that garbage bin.

You see, I am the parking lot monitor. And if you didn’t think so before, you sure as hell will in a minute or two.

Why?

Well, there’s a blue plastic bag attached to the wheel of the walker. And what does she do before putting the walker in the trunk of her car?

Yup, you guessed it – she takes it off and just throws it on the ground.

Are you freaking kidding me? I had been wondering if she even lived here? Maybe she just lives in the neighborhood and wanted to use our bins. How dare she, right?

So what do I do? I know you already know the answer to this one.

I flew out of the kitchen–into the living room–and onto the balcony. Yup, I’m gonna scream at her if she doesn’t pick it up. You know I will.

And now I’m on the 8th floor so I have to yell pretty loudly. But I can do that - no problem!!

I don’t say anything quite yet – she has closed the trunk. Now she’s closing the back door. And unbelievably she was about to get into her car to drive away.

Not on my watch lady!!!

‘Hey! Hey! Hello!’ She keeps looking around wondering if that’s for her. Yes, I’m yelling at you–you–you–litterbug, I say to myself.

I start waving and yelling ‘Hello – up here’.

She looks up and I yell down - ‘Can you pick up your garbage please.’ You big litterbug (of course we all know I didn’t say that last part).

‘Oh, I didn’t notice it’ as she runs after the plastic bag.

Really?? I mean really? Do you think I look stupid? Oh wait a minute - she can’t really see me that well. But she’s afraid of me! I could smell her fear all the way up here. And that made me happy. Very happy.

Truth be told I have no idea what I would have done if she didn’t pick it up.

I gotta say – it’s kinda fun being a parking lot monitor.

I’m pretty famous in these here parts, you know!! Not to brag but my beady eyes caught some thieves red handed, sort of. But that’s a story for another day.

My balcony is my command post, don’t you know.

Yeah, laugh all you want — but this nosy lady gets results.

Stay tuned for Volume Two — because this balcony isn’t just for fun and games. This is a serious balcony. Wonder Woman meets Mrs. Kravitz.

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‘GrandmaDeb GrandmaDeb - see, we’re not orange!’

‘Ok???’ As I watch Makayla and Vanessa, her short ballpark friend, skip towards us. They were clearly excited about something.

‘We’re not orange!!’ As if repeating it makes me understand it better.

Context children. Context.

‘Want to give me a hint as to what you’re talking about?’

They continue giggle-dancing all around us.

‘Don’t you remember? Last time we were here - we were rubbing an orange flower all over our arms and face. And you told us that we were now going to wake up orange. Don’t you remember?’

Oh that. Now I remember! Here’s the thing – I say a lot of bat shit crazy stuff to kids. It’s kinda my jam! But honestly, how am I supposed to remember everything I say? Because – it’s a lot.

Once I knew what they were talking about, I couldn’t help but feel such joy.

And then I realized that I had an even bigger joy waiting in the wings – the kids now wanted to tease ME!

They grow up so fast, don’t they?

Grandkids (and their friends) are like the gift that keeps on giving.

Tiny joys that burst your heart wide open!

July 7, 1975 is forever etched in my mind.

50 years ago today is when I left home!

I was 19 years old.

‘It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.’

I was petrified.

I was leaving my family.

My friends.

Everything I knew.

Even so, I felt I needed to ‘escape’. Escape from what exactly? I guess my parents. I was living at home and felt it was time to go out on my own. Have some adventures. See the world.

To become independent.

So where did I go? How did I come to these decisions?

Well, I was 18 years old in November 1974 and my boyfriend and I had yet another fight. Things hadn’t been going well for awhile. So after this particular fight, I realized that I needed some time away. To think about my future.

The first thing I did was quit my job. I realize this seems counter to thinking about a future. But trust me, it was the right decision.

And how did I know this? Well, as luck would have it, my grandmother, aunt and uncle were driving to Florida the following week. I asked if I could join them and possibly stay for a few weeks. They readily agreed. I will never forget their generosity in allowing me to tag along. They never made me feel as though I was intruding. They couldn’t have been kinder to me.

I loved the warm sun. It fed my soul. I swam in the cold ocean. Sat on the beach alone. Took long walks. Read on the balcony. It was so peaceful and quiet.

I was an outgoing teenager who normally liked parties and being around lots of people but not then. I needed peace and quiet. It was perfect.

I never talked to them about why I was there. Or the big decisions I was struggling with and they never asked. I think they knew I was sad. But they didn’t press me. I was grateful for that.

I slept in the same room as my grandmother. She told me that I laughed in my sleep. It made me happy to think that in my dream world I was enjoying myself.

It took me about 3 weeks before I started to feel myself again. I was making some interesting decisions and was now looking forward to going home. It was mid-December — a few days before my birthday when I arrived home.

First things first – I was going to break up with my boyfriend.

Next decision - get a job.

Third and final decision — move!

I felt relieved that I had made these decisions but now I had to put them into action.

My boyfriend took the news badly. Trying to change my mind. But I was solid in my decision. I knew it was the best thing for me. We’d been together for about 1.5 years. Long enough to know if it was right or not.

Then I got a job. Jobs were crazy easy to get in the 70s.

Now for the move! That was a bigger deal.

Because I had decided to move to Calgary! Over 3,000 kms away.

I could have easily gotten an apt in downtown Montreal where I commuted every day for work.

But I wanted to go far enough away so that I could become independent. I felt that maybe I wouldn’t be able to achieve that if I was still close to home. Plus it didn’t have that adventure component to it.

Some people asked why I didn’t just move to Toronto if I wanted to be far away. Toronto was only about 500 kms away. Again, it was too close.

I was pretty sure that I would have bad days. That’s just life isn’t it? If I was sad or lonely or feeling depressed – would I just run home on weekends to feel better? How would I make a life in Toronto if I kept running home when the going got tough? No, that wasn’t the answer either.

Calgary was the answer.

Now I had to pick a date. I thought that I could probably save enough in 6 months.

Considering I got home from Florida in mid December - I chose July 7, 1975.

It was smack dab in the middle of Calgary Stampede. I thought that would be fun. I would be 19. Everything seemed fun at 19. It was going to be such an adventure. I was so excited.

Now came the hardest part: saving money. I was a teenager who didn’t know the value of a dollar. I found it almost impossible to save. July 7th was fast approaching and I wasn’t quite ready to go, financially. But I’d be damned if I was going to change my plans. I felt that if I didn’t go then, I would never go. Probably a bit melodramatic but I was a teenager. So what did I do? I went anyway. Short on funds but rich in optimism.

I didn’t know it then but I was already beginning to learn to believe in myself. This decision alone would take me far.

It was time to try out my wings!

It’s now 50 years later!

Would I have done anything differently?

No! It set me up for life really – as tough as it was at the time.

I learned to embrace risk.
I learned never to let fear stand in my way.
I learned that I have to believe in myself. Always.

I’ve carried these lessons with me every day since!

July 7, 1975—the day everything changed!

Do you remember those 5 Little Joys I wrote last week? They were nice, eh? I felt so joyful, lucky, grateful – you know, all round good.

Well today is a new day! And I don’t feel any of those things - joyful, lucky, grateful – none of it. And definitely not happy. I am not a happy camper.

Instead, I’m going to write about 5 Big-NON-Joys. Did you catch the word NON?? So don’t go looking for any joys because you won’t find them here.

Have you ever had one of those weeks? Of course you have. You’re human! But if you haven’t – then all I have to say is - well aren’t you special!!!

Buckle up because here I go…

It all started with our car needing a battery. It happened just as we were about to head to our grandson’s flag football games. Yes, I said games – as in plural. He was actually playing 3 in row - who schedules that, right?? Anyway, we missed them all because of this bleeping battery.

I guess I should be grateful that it happened in our garage rather than somewhere else. And we were able to get another one that day. Blah blah blah…but I’m really not in the mood to be grateful nor see silver linings. I just want to unload.

So I will continue…

Big-NON-Joy #2

Our fridge broke down. Yes, we thought it was ok a week ago but it freaking wasn’t. The ding dong who came to ‘repair’ it wanted to do anything but actually ‘repair’ it.

He put a thermometer in the freezer part and the fridge part and said - everything reads ok. And could not get out of here fast enough. You’d have thought his pants were on fire! Jackass.

I later wondered if he gets a commission from the owner of these apt buildings each time he doesn’t have to replace a fridge? It would explain a lot.

I wished I’d realized earlier that our lasagna (yes store bought lasagna - don’t judge me) had ice on it and the packaging was kinda mushy. If I’d paid enough attention, then I could have better prepared myself – and him for what turned out to be a disaster. Because the freezer just stopped working and the fridge barely worked. So we lost everything in the freezer. And some in the fridge. We hadn’t realized that things were thawing and then refreezing. Probably lost about $150 worth of food – maybe more.

We finally got the replacement fridge yesterday - FIVE FREAKING days later!!

No silver lining or gratitude as promised! Just sheer anger and frustration.

Big-NON-Joy #3

Air conditioner conked out. Yes, it did that a week before but it came back on so we thought - ok that was a blip.

Oh for goodness sake!!! There are no blips. Just broken promises and sweat. Lots and lots of sweat.

And guess what?? It’s still on the fritz. SIX FREAKING days later!

As a result I am therefore rescinding my Little Joys #1 right here and now!!

And there’s no silver lining or gratitude here either! None! Nada!

Life just freaking sucks sometimes, doesn’t it??

Big-NON-Joy #4

Air conditioner in the CAR is also not working.

Sweating at home. Sweating in the car. Sweat Sweat Sweat!

Isn’t life grand?!!

The car spent the day at the garage being pampered (by Dave, no less) while we were stuck at home - you know - sweating!!

There is absolutely no gratitude or silver lining here.

Just sheer fed-up-ness.

Big-NON-Joy #5

This involves medications that are not being covered the same way our plan usually covers them.

Why, you ask?

For various reasons - a new carrier requires different things which just means jumping through a few unnecessary hoops. And something about only covering some of the cost of a brand name drug since the generic is no longer in the marketplace.

Really? Are we seriously doing this now?”

There is zero gratitude or silver lining here folks! Like Zero!!

Believe it or not, there have been other aggravations. But I’m calling it. It’s got to end somewhere. Even if not in real life – just in my writing world.

How do I imagine today will play out? So far so good. But I’ve only been up since 7:00. And let’s not forget the air conditioning in our apt is still not fixed.

And we still have to sort out some drug stuff. And some other crap that’s going on!

So, give me time. Or give the universe time—to, you know, work its black magic!!

Though I am wondering how to end this rant of mine. I can't quite decide—should I find the silver linings, or stay in character and refuse to find them?

I’m pretty committed to finding none. So that’s where I’m landing. I’ll stay in character and continue to find no gratitude, no silver linings—none of it. You know, to make myself feel better.

Hmmm... I wonder though—does it actually make me feel better?

Stop it, Debbie—do not find any gratitude! Just don’t.

Now I can safely say—THE END.

Have you ever noticed that a lot of people leave their manners at the door when they enter a grocery store? I wonder why that is?

I think grocery stores are where humans are on full display. Every emotion imaginable: cheerful, indignant, rude, polite, impatient. You name it — we’ve seen it, felt it, or been it.

To me, grocery stores offer tiny chances to show up a little better. Which I think is why I love writing about them.

As I enter the store, I’m in good spirits – whew – that isn’t always the case when I shop. I’m ashamed to say. Sometimes I’m that person who leaves their manners at the door. Bad Debbie!

It’s a pretty busy Saturday morning and I keep bumping into the same woman — a friendly older lady who laughs every time we collide. Which seems to happen in every single aisle.

As we bump carts for, like, the third time, she takes the time to tell me a funny story about her mother-in-law. Who she just adored. But who turned into a different person whenever they went grocery shopping.

Why? Well apparently she would always leave her cart in the middle of the aisle while she shopped the entire aisle from end to end.

She tried to reason with her. But have you ever tried to tell a very senior person (not like me-senior – but senior-senior) not to do something? Yeah, it never works.

She eventually had to TELL her husband that he was now on grocery duty. She just couldn’t handle it anymore. She’d rather do anything than that - like clean her toilets! I laughed.

Of course it reminded me of one of my own mother-in-law stories — and because I love telling stories, I couldn’t resist. You know, to make her feel better – so she wouldn’t think she was alone.

Winnie was sweet, gentle, kind and usually considerate of others. But sometimes, she sure did some crazy shit!

Would she listen to me? No! She was a senior-senior, don’t you know.

‘Imagine this’, I say to this happy shopper, ‘we would get off an escalator and Winnie would stop dead. Every. Single. Time. Wouldn’t matter how many times I’d pick her up and move her forward. Or try to reason with her. Or joke about it. Nothing worked. She was oblivious.

She thought it was ok to stand right there. At the top of the escalator. To think about where she would like to go. No action. Just thinking.

In the meantime, people are bunching up on the top of the escalator with nowhere to go.’

Oblivious.

We realized that our lovely mother-in-laws were senior-seniors. They operated under their own set of rules. And they preferred not to let us know what those rules were. Probably because they secretly enjoyed changing the rules to suit themselves. Sneaky senior-seniors!

We are now both laughing in the middle of the aisle. Probably annoying other shoppers. Oh oh, I wonder if they consider us one of those ‘senior-seniors’ who are oblivious.

‘Did we just turn into our mother-in-laws?’ I ask.

This makes us laugh even more.

Oh. My. Goodness. We have got to get control.

Finally, off we go in different directions.

So, my tiny joy – reminiscing and laughing at our shared frustrations with our beloved mother-in-laws, without malice. Just love! And laughs!

Thanks Winnie for the memories! Even the bat shit crazy ones!

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There are lots of things that can happen at a ball field but this is definitely not one I ever expected.

We were watching our 10-year-old grandson play baseball.

And they were winning by the way. 11-1. Yikes!

Our granddaughter was off playing with her friend.

My husband, his daughter and I were yakking and watching the game.

But I usually get restless and want to walk around the field looking for gawd knows what. But I’ll know it when I see it! It’s usually other people. You know, to chitty-chat.

So, as my grandson is about to go up to bat I head to the backstop to watch him.

Here’s a little extra tiny joy - he no longer pretends he doesn’t see us. Now he engages us. It warms my heart when he looks around and smiles at me. Tiny joy!!

I’m about to meet my second tiny joy for the evening.

There are two people sitting in chairs in front of me. The woman on the right makes a funny gesture to her child who is playing ball. The ball went wild and she raised her arms in exasperation - like - what the heck was that throw!

I laughed. They both turned around to look up at me. The one on the right looks like the mom of the teenager sitting beside her.

The mom answers ‘Right?!!!’. While laughing I ask her, “Does she belong to you?” She laughs and says, ‘Yeah - can you believe it?!!!” I’ll be damned if I’m going to diss a child so I just laugh.

So you know what happens next? You’ll never guess.

The teenager jumped up out of her seat and came over to stand beside me.

What? Why is she standing beside me?

I’m waiting for her to say hello but she doesn’t say a word. She just keeps watching the game.

Well, considering I’m the adult - I guess it’s my move.

So, I ask her if she’s for the blue team. She says, Yes.

So, then I do the most un-adult thing ever - I say to her, ‘Na na na na na - we’re beating you!’

She doesn’t laugh and says to me - ‘that’s not very nice’.

Ooops, I may have overplayed my hand. Not all my jokes land.

But, you know – in for a penny, in for a pound – I continue…’it may not be nice but it’s true. I mean we’re beating you 11-1’.

She laughs and says, ‘ya I guess you’re right’.

Whew!

For a second there, I thought I’d blown it. I mean, who trash talks to a teenager you just met?

Next time Deb, act like an adult, I say to myself. You got lucky this time.

Anyway, this charming teenager and I spent the next 15 minutes getting to know one another. Her name was Jordan. She’s 14, soon to be 15. She plays rep baseball, flag football and in the winters does gymnastics. Her grandmother’s name is also Debbie - that seemed to make her happy.

She was confident, beautiful with long dark hair. Respectful, amusing, and engaging.

And you know what she says as I’m leaving - it was nice getting to know you.

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Our grandson, Andrew, owes me a home run!

Let me start at the beginning.

Our 8 year-old granddaughter, Makayla, is quite artsy. She was given a jewellery-making kit and while visiting one day she pulls a wildly colorful necklace with a matching bracelet from behind her back. She asked me to choose – the necklace or the bracelet?

The bracelet!

It was beautiful. Big, round, brightly colored baubles all around it.

That was the first tiny joy in this story. Her kindness and thoughtfulness are always front and centre. She warmed my heart.

I proudly put it on and while I’m admiring it, I look over at Andrew and spontaneously say to him, “So what do you have for me Andrew?”

He looks at me with these wide eyes and says, “What? I don’t have anything.”

“Why not? Your sister just gave me this beautiful bracelet” as I tap on it. “It’s your turn now to give me something.” Tap tap tap.

He stutters and sputters and doesn’t know what to say.

Tap tap tap

He then gets a brainstorm. “Hey, I’ll hit a home run tomorrow.”

“Ok, you’re on!”

“Ummm, well a home run is putting a lot of pressure on myself”, he quickly adds.

I’m not a mean grandma - so I give him an out – “if you’d prefer to just hit a single that’s ok with me. You just have to decide before we leave.”

“Oh it’s too much pressure”, he says. Such a drama king!

“Listen dude, you owe me something so I’m giving you the option to decide what it is. Home run, single, double. You choose. But once I leave here, you can’t change your mind.”

All the while I keep tapping my bracelet. Tap tap tap

He starts laughing, grabs a blanket, throws it over his head, and groans dramatically.

“Ok, Home Run – that’s what I’ll give you.”

“Deal”.

The following day we’re at the park and he tells me that he’s going to hit that home run.

Tap tap tap.

He strikes out the first time at bat. But he’s not discouraged. He’s matured so much in these last 2 years playing ball.

Second time at bat - he hits a single.

I give him a thumbs up.

And right here is when I get my tiny joy from Andrew – he tapped his wrist. Can you believe it? He tapped his wrist.

Letting me know that he still owes me that home run.

Tiny joy.
Tiny Tap.
Bursting Heart.

So you’re probably wondering if he hit that home run. Nope. But 2 days later, he not only hit a home run but he hit for the cycle. Unfortunately, we couldn't make the next game. But his Mom caught his next at-bat on video—a massive, beautiful home run.

There’s yet another tiny joy to this story -- for the first time ever - he texted me – the following morning. Asking if I’d seen how far he hit the ball.

Debt paid.
Bracelet retired.
Joy captured.

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We were at the baseball diamond, watching our grandson Andrew play.

Makayla, our very tall 8-year-old granddaughter, was there with her ballpark friend, Vanessa — a very short 7-year-old with the bluest eyes and a constant grin. She’s one of those kids who just stands nearby, wringing her hands and smiling, waiting to be noticed. Which takes a minute, since Makayla doesn’t look down all that often.

Eventually they tear off together, leaving me in their dust.

I’m just background noise. Which is fine. Mostly.

Until Makayla trots back five minutes later and says, “Can you come to the playground?”

“Oh, now you want to play with me?” I tease.

“No,” she says, “Vanessa’s mom won’t let her go unless there’s an adult.”

Kids can just cut you to the quick, can’t they?

“So you actually need me? Hmmm…what to do!”

Of course she knows me quite well by now so she knows I’m going to say yes. I just want her to sweat a little.

But she’s not playing my game. Instead she grabs my hand and starts running.

“Where are we going?”

“To show Vanessa’s mom you’re the adult going with us.”

And where’s Vanessa in all this? Just standing near her mom wringing her hands and smiling. Always smiling.

It’s like she knows Makayla will make it all happen. So she just stands nearby, quietly watching all the goings on — trusting that somehow, some way, everything will work out just fine.

And it does.

Off we go to the playground. I found a patch of grass so we could play a bunch of different games like red light, green light and tag.

We found a patch of grass to play red light, green light and tag. While we were running, Vanessa looked up at me with those piercing blue eyes, giggling, and said, “This is so much fun!” She made my day. Completely and utterly.

She thought I was making her day — but really, it was the other way around.

Tiny joy! Big heart.

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I set the intention of tiny joys. So now I just live life and trust the universe will kindly present them to me.

Turns out, most of mine involve people. Not so surprising, considering people are my jam!

As of yesterday, though, I only had 4 and I wanted to run a series of 5. Why 5? No idea - just felt like the right number - Monday to Friday type thing except I’m starting it today, Tuesday. Go figure.

I had been looking for a tiny joy not involving people – for a change.

But nothing was showing itself.

Patience Debbie Patience!

This morning I not only received one tiny joy but two. Two for the price of one.

That often happens I find. One tiny joy begets another.

In this heat dome, the last thing you want is your air conditioner to fail you.

But, let me start with saying that I recognize how lucky I am to have air conditioning. I am acutely aware that not everyone is as fortunate.

Having said that - when we woke up, our air conditioner said NO POWER.

Oh gosh, not today.

We remained calm and called the superintendent who said he would be up shortly.

Within ½ hour the air was back on and is still humming along. I thought he might have done something remotely. But no - it just magically started again.

I think it just needed a rest. It was a long, hot night.

Tiny joy!!

Tiny cool joy!!

And we’ve been having some problems with our fridge lately. So while on the phone with the super we mentioned the fridge problems.

The appliance repair guy came up within the hour and checked everything out and said it’s all ok. So, don’t know if that will continue to be the case but we’ll go with that for now.

Tiny joy!!

Tiny cool joy!! Again!

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