In Better Spirits

A few months ago, my mom and stepdad came to Canada to visit us. They fit into our harried routine, cooking, cleaning and looking after the kids. One night when I had to take my daughter to dance, my stepdad offered to come for the drive. “Are you sure?” I asked. “It’s kind of boring. I wait one hour in the car listening to music, writing or sleeping.”

“I’ll come,” he said.

The dance class is in a small plaza with an Irish pub. We laughed as we drove past the pub, saying that we should be sitting in there. “Why don’t we?” I said. So we did. We sat in a small Irish pub, drank a beer and got to know each other again, the way we used to when I lived in Jamaica and we had all the time in the world to sit on his balcony overlooking the sea and chat. The time flew by and the hour passed in what seemed like minutes. Now, every time I take my daughter to dance, I miss my stepdad. It reminds me of family and good times and how we need to break away from our routine and do something different and fun. The Irish pub is a lot more entertaining than waiting in the car, especially with winter coming. So here I am waiting for my daughter to finish dance again. It’s after eight. This time, I’m not waiting in the car. I’m sitting in the same Irish pub listening to the laughter of the bartender, the hockey game on TV and the few patrons sitting at the bar. I’ve got my glass of red wine. I feel like a real writer. I don’t know what a real writer feels like but in my romanticized version of reality, Hemingway wasn’t rushing kids across town, making lunches, crawling into bed at ten, eleven or twelve feeling like he’d been run over by a truck and then getting up at the crack of dawn to rush to work (well, not really the crack of dawn but far too early for me). Back to the Irish pub, soft country music is playing and a stranger has introduced himself as he leaves the pub saying he hopes he’ll see me again. An elderly man with an accent from somewhere in the British Isles says, “Girl, you type faster than I think.” And they say Northerners are cold and unfriendly! The bar is cosy and for just an hour I imagine that I’m travelling the world again, sitting in Australia or New Zealand, or somewhere exciting, and I don’t feel rushed or harried. The hour is flying by and I’m in much better spirits. This is so much nicer than waiting in the car.

2 replies
  1. Brenda W
    Brenda W says:

    Hello, dear Peta-Gaye, I loved this!
    Looking forward to more! (smile)
    Sending you much love, and all good wishes,

  2. Kathy DeSouza
    Kathy DeSouza says:

    Love this. It really is true… Sometimes when we break away from the norm, we find a new way of doing the same thing. Beautiful….

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