Writer's Tip #2:

Keep your drafts & quick-writes❗️ You can come back to them when revising (in case you delete something you later decide you want to keep).

The next week I would have a string of panic attacks as the stress mounted, the homework piled up and I realized I was going to leave this lovely little school and all its friendships behind me. I was voted valedictorian but the significance was lost on me as I hardly had time to put pen to paper to write the speech that came with that honor. I was mourning, as I knew the cherished past three years of dorm life and community living were coming to an end. Everything blurred together and I did not know how to handle any of it but I just kept burying everything deep down and carrying on. 

This was a dark time for me but in this photo session, I remember the photographer asking me to stand and stare at the camera with all the confidence of a superhero. So I turned and stared at the camera and this picture was the result. 

This picture represents a perspective shift. I got out of bed one morning and decided it was time to visit a wise mentor. In that cozy little office told her how I was really feeling and she gave me some valuable tools and skills to deal with my anxiety. I went on to write one of the best speeches of my life for graduation and I cherished those last few weeks of school and friendships knowing that what I learned there was going to be carried with me throughout my life. There were tears but so many people stood by me once I opned up. I wasn't alone. This was only the beginning nto an end. 

And that is why this picture represents perseverance for me. I had to fight through those final weeks of school, to study, stay focused and finish strong but I did and the things I learned are some of the most valuable lessons I've ever learned. Those anxiety coping and recognition tools I gathered helped me just last week and have also given me the confidence to talk about my experiences in order to help others. So when I see this picture, I see the Ashley I want to stand and be every day and it's a reminder that sometimes that Ashley needs a little help to stand strong. 

I didn’t magically become better overnight, nor was the battle to do better consisted of only uphill in terms of emotions and successes. However, my mindset changed overtime. It took great strength, especially mentally, to do so. I had a more positive outlook in life where I became more appreciative of the small details in each day, more open to changes, and more grateful for the people I had. Continuous perseverance was also essential in tackling this journey. Not everyday I woke up in a good mood, but there was something in everyday that I looked forward to. 

This picture is a reminder for me that with substantial strength, perseverance, and a small shift in perspective, I am doing just fine in life.

 

I love Coffee. I love hot coffee. I love iced Coffee. I love how my love for coffee has evolved from just buying from a shop. I love waking up in the morning and opening my bag of Costa Rican coffee. I love measuring the water to make the perfect cups in my French press or pour over. I love measuring the beans to make the perfect ratio. I love grinding those beans in my electric grinder. I love waiting for my coffee to bloom, steep, and become the perfect coffee. I love sharing it with the person who brought me my first cup. I love the first sip that reminds me of that moment.

 

I immersed myself in coffee because of the feelings that it gave me. My love for coffee has taught me to enjoy the little things. It has taught me to bathe in the morning sun. it has taught me to sit outside and just listen and look. It has taught me to take a deep breath. It has taught me that everything is going to be okay. It has taught me to reach for something better, it has encouraged me to never settle. It has told me to keep going. 

Geese’s piercing honking fills the air. 

Commotion above. Geese’s flock. Dominates all.

Calmness allover. Golden fields. Golden horizon. 

The breeze is flowing through branches. 

Harvesting fields. Hard work. Rich taste. 

I chose this picture of the beach because there is a lot of stories that can be told within this one photo. 2018 was a bit of a challenging year for me, and so that year I had decided to take a trip to visit. It was the first time I travelled alone and the longest I had been away from home.

I remember that day we went zip lining. It had been on my bucket list for years and I finally got to do it! I remember we bought fresh fish from a fisherman who just came back for a long days work, and we had it for dinner that night. I remember on the drive back, a frog suddenly fell out of a tree and landed splat on the windshield …it survived thankfully. I also remember not wanting to get out of the water because it was so warm and swimming during the twilight is a unique experience. 

The beach is a place where we travel to as an escape from reality. It is a place where we can be truly present and a place to spend time with those who matters most - especially the ones I don’t get to see often. Its where we go to eat snow cones and destress. It is where I can capture all those life-long family photos, where we can bring out our paddle board and ride the waves, where I can teach my little cousin to swim, and where we can forget about all of life’s problems. 

The beach is a day that feels like infinity. It is the first thing on my list to do when I arrive in Trinidad, and it’s the last thing I do before I come home. 

Thanks for reading! :)

Photos are important to me which is why I chose a photo to represent the word love. I enjoy pulling out photo albums from throughout my life to reflect on memories. I had a hard time choosing which photo I wanted to use. I believe photos tell stories of love whether they are photos you took with your friends, parents/family members, or significant other. Pictures of yourself/selfies can reflect self love. The picture I chose to share represents a day I felt purely loved. Not only by my husband but by all our family and friends that supported us when we got married. Looking back on this photo, I can almost feel the strong feelings of love that I felt on this day.

What: Ballzout basketball camp

Where: Valleyview School

When: July 5-7

Cost: $90

Hosted by: Mitch and Shane C

My cousins had already told me about this camp they were planning, and I told them “I will think about it.” I had been playing basketball since I was six and I was one of the best in my neighbourhood. So, what was stopping me? The voice in my head was loud and filled with uncomfortable questions: “What if I am not as good as I think I am? What if the other kids do not like me? What if a coach wants me to do a drill that I am not able to do and I get embarrassed?” At that moment, just standing on my porch staring blankly at the invitation, I had a flash of emotions all happening at once: nervousness, anxiety, fear. My palms started to sweat, and my chest was pounding. I was imagining myself at that camp and how it would go. None of the scenarios in my mind ended well. Luckily, I remembered that one of my friends, Alex, said that he was planning to go, so I would at least know a familiar face there. I decided in that split second, that I was going to commit and plan to go to this camp. 

The next few days preparing went by like a blur. My mom helped me buy and get everything I would need for the camp, ranging from the ninety-dollar fee to go, all the way to snacks and a water bottle to use. When I was not getting my supplies ready, I was at Alex’s house playing basketball in his driveway. I wanted to be as prepared as possible. However, his driveway was not ideal to replicate the circumstances. The basket was a worn-out outdoor net, with a concrete-grey backboard and an off-white torn netting from the wear and tear. The driveway was jet black and made up of a combination of small rocks. The amount of space we had to play on was two car lengths widthwise, as on our left was a divot of land, and on the right was their garage, along with his mom’s garden alongside of it. I did not care though. It was somewhere to play. The afternoons leading up to the camp were all the same in my mind. Sweltering heat from the sun beating on us. The feel of the grip of the basketball on my hands. The sound of a singular bird circling the sky, with the louder sound of the ball hitting the rock surface. Finally, the taste of litres of semi-warm water in my plastic water bottle from sitting out in the heat for too long.

The night before the day of the camp, my mom was constantly saying things like “make sure you put your name on your stuff” and “Don’t forget to tie your shoes tight”, but I was not focused on any of that. I was thinking, “How am I supposed to go to sleep tonight”? I was a bundle of nerves. My stomach felt like a butter churner. My mind was racing a mile a minute thinking about if I made the right choice.

On the morning of the camp, Alex and I carpooled to Valleyview school, which put my mind at ease. However, time felt like it was moving so fast. In a second, we went from my house to outside of the school. I stepped out of the safety of my parent’s maroon caravan with my big red Roots gym bag to behold the size of the school. It was two stories, situated on top of a hill, and it seemed to have a million possible entrances. Alex and I were trying to figure out which entrance to go in, frantically pacing the perimeter of the school, trying to open the steel door handles, and hoping they would open. Finally, the gym door opened and out popped my cousin, Mitch, excited and ready to coach. In that instant, I walked into the school and would not be ready for what would happen in the next two days. All I knew was I made it in, now bring it on.

This was a defining moment in my life because this was the first extra-curricular activity up until that point in my life. Before, I would only spend time with kids in my neighbourhood and never stepped outside that bubble. This camp was a step into a whole new world and community. Also, it shaped me for the rest of my life because I believe that camp gave me the confidence and sense of belonging I needed at that age. I overcame my fear of trying something new and stepping out of my comfort zone. I interacted with other kids over a common interest and I got the recognition from my peers that I was good at basketball and would belong to a brother and sisterhood for the rest of my life. Also, it taught me an important life lesson: that I must learn to be comfortable being in uncomfortable situations; because without those situations, I cannot grow as a person and expand my horizons in any aspect of my life. Uncomfortable situations are inevitable. I can only control how I react and adapt to those situations. I knew I wanted to be active and participate in extra-curricular activities. I experienced the endorphin rush I get when playing sports and staying active, which is still true today. Finally, the camp came full circle in grade 10, when I was able to team with one of the kids that took part in it. We reminisced about the memories from that summer. That moment showed me that relationships and bonds can stand the test of time from meaningful shared experiences in the past. 

Looking back, I am glad that my younger self decided to take a leap and go to that camp; I undoubtedly believe that I would not be the person I am today without that defining moment.

            I love hockey. I love the sound hockey sticks make when a puck is snapped towards the net. I love the pinch of skate laces around my fingers when I am tying my skates. I love the ice. I love the sound of tape being ripped from the roll. I love the constant chatter of voices while waiting to step out onto the ice. I love the taste of water coming out of the water bottles that line the bench. I love the intermissions. I love celebrating a goal. I love watching the perfect play come together. I love the routine of putting on my equipment. I love hockey.

            Hockey is important to me because of the life lessons it has taught me. It taught me how to work with a group of people in a team atmosphere. By working together, you can overcome any obstacles. Being on a team makes you take responsibility for your actions. When you make a mistake, there is people you trust to help you work through the problems together. You get the insight of other’s ideas and opinions and helps you grow as a player and, more importantly, as a person. Being able to own up to a mistake, or admitting you do not know a certain play or what to do in a specific situation is an important life lesson. Knowing that there will be someone you trust to help you work through it and help you learn.  A team also celebrates you when you make a great play. They are your biggest cheering section, the people who want to see you succeed more than anyone else. That is an amazing feeling. Knowing that a group of people will celebrate just as much as you when you accomplish a goal, because they are equally as excited. The mutual excitement everyone has towards the common goals helps cement your relationships within the team. Hockey has taught me many things, lessons that I know I use every day. Lessons that I will continue to use. 

 

 

            I think as I grow, I continue to learn more about the strength and perseverance she had while we grew up. She put aside the dark and angry parts of divorce and focused on what she knew was best for my sister and I. I am certain there were battles that I never knew about, or gossiping and angry banter, but still to this day, never around us.  My mom and dad came together and hosted birthdays, Christmas and most family events, always including the entirety of my wild and blended family. I always tell them they could have been the poster parents for divorce. It was so empowering to look over at the sidelines when I was playing soccer to see my mom, my dad, my step mom, my sister and my half-sister there. I remember being in middle school and getting weird looks that BOTH my mom and dad were at meet the teacher or on field trips when they didn’t live together. I was so confused as to why it was weird, now I just laugh. It must have been incredibly challenging at times, but that never stopped them and they raised us beautifully- together, yet apart. 

 

            My mom’s strength and perseverance showed me that even in the darkest or worst of times, you can keep going. She taught me to lead with my best intentions and to assume that everyone else is leading with theirs, too. She is positively the most hardworking and beautiful person I am honored to know. My mom, my superhero. 

 

I included a picture of my mom, my grandma, my step mom and I! 

            Instead of a typical Saturday spent running around outside, playing ball hockey with neighbourhood friends and enjoying the fresh air, I was chained to the desk upstairs due to the dreaded return of the assignment. I spent most of that day redoing my assignment, and although I did not enjoy sacrificing my sacred Saturday to do it, the temporary cost was worth the long-term reward.

            This was a defining moment for myself because it was the first time I can remember being told that something I did was not good enough. I was in the third grade and I remember being in a grade 3/4 split class with a teacher that was known to be tough. When she called me to her desk, she simply asked me to redo the assignment. I can still picture myself sitting at a desk in my mom’s office, and I remember how it took almost all day to complete a couple hours worth of work because I was so unhappy to be doing schoolwork on a Saturday. 

This experience sticks out in my mind years later because of the expectation of quality that my teacher had for me. When she got me to go back and redo the assignment, I felt like she was saying “I know this is not your best work, try again and put in the effort that I know you can do.” This showed me that she saw more potential in me than I was exhibiting, and it made me want to put in a better effort. I think if she had just given me a bad mark and moved on it would have been accepting that all I had to offer was what I put forth the first time. Going through this experience helped to instill within me to take my time when completing tasks in order to not just get them done, but to do them as best that I can.

I have always admired him, however after the tragic helicopter accident where he and eight more people lost their lives I realized that his influence on me was bigger than I thought. It was a huge shock for me and I couldn’t believe it for a while. I love the way Kobe Bryant played basketball and his professional attitude to every game as if it was the most important game of the season. His enormous level of enthusiasm and positive energy toward everybody on the team was captivating to those around him. 

I observed how he handled demanding work that he needed to keep up with and his relation to the people around him. Through this I have learned from him how important it is to have a balance between various aspects of life if you want to be successful in whatever work you are doing. I tried to work at improving my work attitudes, maintaining a healthy lifestyle and to focus on teamwork through my everyday interaction with people weather it is on the team, or in class.

But not only that, hands are for communication to clarify when we want to make an emphasis of what we want to say or to add an extra convincing tone to our speech. We could even replace speech with our hands if we want to be secretive or dramatic. 

Moreover, hands are for social connection at the level that is deeper than words. It is even preexisting to our words and sometimes a hand on one’s shoulder could reassure a person that everything is safe and all right. Also, hands are for expressing feelings such as in moment of frustration when we are clenching our hands or in moments when we gently touch our friends shoulder to say: “Hello”. 

I became passionate about running because I loved the feeling of pushing my body to the absolute physical limit, and then going beyond that. Throughout my 13 years of competitive running, I have learned perseverance in a way no other aspect of my life has taught me. I have had to overcome physical injuries and the mental anxieties of racing, which have only made me more resilient. Running has brought me lifelong friends, accomplishments, and lessons that I am indescribably thankful for. My current goal for running is to complete a half marathon in the time of one hour and 30 minutes; but my lifelong goal is to try and share my passion of running to my family, friends, and students so that they too can experience the euphoria and discipline that comes along with it. 

I love pushing to the limit. I love surpassing my limit. I love discovering that there is no limit. I love the sweat, the pain, the endurance, the adrenaline, the hunger, and the desire for more. I love being stronger each day. I love the mental battle. I love the sound of weights crashing, the comfort. I love having a time to beat, a record to beat, me to beat. I love the feel of a barbell, my hands constricting. I love the suspense before I lift. I love a sore body. I love the stress in my muscles and the stress leaving my mind. I love the good in pain. I love putting on my gym clothes and feeling nothing but happy. I love that I love the challenge over the outcome. I love tying my hair up and putting my headphones in. I love being in my own moment, tuning everything out. I love that something so exhaustive can be so relaxing. I love that I only need to spend an hour of my time to have a better day, a better life. 

Working out is important to me because it is an outlet for my life. Whether I am happy, angry, or stressed I have something that I can do to elevate my mood and calm my body. My goal like most people, is to have a life free of anxieties. While hardships are inevitable having an avenue to channel negative emotions helps them to not implode. Moreover, exercise has taught me self-control. Ironically a healthy passion has once been an unhealthy obsession with two hour workouts and an unbalanced diet. Learning that the goal of going to a gym was to make people stronger and not skinnier changed my perspective on health. It is as much a mental battle as a physical one. There is no satisfaction in chasing societal beauty images because they are subject to change. Creating the most healthy and balanced version of yourself is where beauty lies. Having the ability to become stronger and put my body to use and challenge it’s capability instead of what it looks likes, made me mentally stronger as a person. Instead of dwelling on images I could never achieve I now work on what my body can achieve. That is why working out is my passion. 

 

     My goal in 2013, was to hike to Everest Base Camp once I had completed my first University degree and in 2018 I achieved my dream. This photo represents six years of perseverance, saving every penny and sticking to my goal that one day I would walk one hundred and thirty kilometres through the Himalayas. Although I had trained hard for the adventure ahead, no amount of physical activity was a match for the increasing altitude that played with my senses. This photo reminds me of every frosty morning wake-up and the smell of yak dung being burned for heat. It reminds me of every challenging inhale, headaches from decreasing oxygen, and thinking that gripping my fingers around the straps of my backpack was just as helpful to deflect doubtful thoughts as the music that played in my ears. Perseverance was critical, knowing that by the end of the day I would be at an even higher altitude with even less oxygen. 

                        

     I did not know this photo was being taken, however, I am glad it was. I love this photo as it represents perseverance and strength. It was my determination to reach Everest Base Camp that overpowered the lack of oxygen and the pressure headaches from increasing altitude. I felt all five senses kept me alive and guided me to my goal of reaching the highest altitude I could. This photo reminded me of how amazing it felt to string my prayer flags along the rocks at Base Camp and seeing through my own eyes the beauty of Mount Everest. 

 

 

My father who played high level basketball in Europe took it hope himself to coach the men’s varsity team in this town where basketball was an afterthought. I went to a lot of practices and observed my father coaching and leading this team, from students who had no prior knowledge of the game of basketball, to competing with schools in Winnipeg where they were complete underdogs. At the time I did not understand the significance of the perseverance and dedication my father and these students displayed. Now that I look back at my life I see how that specific scene of me observing my father coaching projected onto my attitude towards bettering my basketball skills as well as instilling my dedication to perfecting my passions and ambitions throughout my life.

The more I mature I realize how this foundation shaped my drive and understanding that no matter how foreign or new something is to someone it can be conquered through hard work, positive role models and intrinsic motivation. 

A lot of people would not think twice about a birthday card, possibly not even buy one, or maybe even throw it out after a holiday has passed. I know I have done all of those things, but as cheesy as it sounds, birthday cards are my Dad’s thing. Every year on my birthday my Dad always buys me the fanciest card. I’m talking about the cards that cost $13 and have a plastic cover, so I feel that it is only fair to do the same for him. Even though we talk on the phone often I do not always get to tell him how thankful I am for everything he does for me, and this is my way of showing him that. I will spend time picking out a card on his birthday or Father’s Day and even catch myself tearing up while reading through them. My favourite thing out of all of it though is watching him try to hide that he is tearing up when he reads it. He usually just gets super quiet and then gives me a hug. He may try to act tough, but when he calls to tell me that he had to read it at least one more time, I know I did well. 

I have learned many things from my Dad. He has taught me how to have a sense of humour, how to be responsible, respectful, and kind. He has also taught me numerous things about my car, which I am extremely thankful for. One thing that we have in common is that we both worry and overthink way too much. Even though he can worry about something just as much as I can, he tells me at least once a week not to worry about the small stuff. Even though I have a hard time taking that advice sometimes, I always have it in the back of my head as a little reminder that things are not always as big as they seem.

 
I love golf. I love 6:00 am tee times when the dew is fresh on the ground. I love the sight of a perfectly flighted golf ball into the wind. I love making putts. I love the feel of brand new golf balls straight out of the sleeve. I love connecting and getting to know people as you walk the fairways together. I love the driving range. I love visualizing different shots and seeing them come to life. I love seeing a friend smile after he strikes his shot clean following a swing tip. I love quiet, peaceful evenings when you have the course to yourself. I love following the flight of an iron shot that never leaves the flag. I love quickly picking up the tee knowing your ball is in the fairway. I love perfectly cleaned clubs. I love the sight of the ball spinning back once it lands on the green. I love the sound of the ball at the bottom of the cup. I love the feeling of contact with an iron shot. I love my partner saying “nice ball” after I have my best shot of the day. I love being at the golf course dusk till dawn.    

The beauty that lies within golf is that it is a lot like life, you can hit a good shot and receive a bad break or hit a bad shot that kicks out of the trees and onto the fairway. Golf has shown me that I am observant and see small details, noticing a slight change in wind throughout the round or how a putt breaks on the green. Golf has taught me patience as I wait for slow groups on the course, or as I wait for the putts to start falling. Golf has given me countless memories with family and friends that I will cherish forever. I aim to play golf until I am physically unable to, and to continually seek improvement in every aspect of my game, as I have learned that even a bad day on the course, still beats a day almost anywhere else.   
     

I love the way the people buzz in the early mornings. I love the big buildings filled with big people. I love the way the sun rises through the skyscrapers. I love the buskers in the subway with raspy voices. I love the museums filled with curious people and meaningful understandings. I love the expensive coffee that tastes prestigious and proper. I love the libraries filled with stories of the voices which have been lost.

            My trip to New York City was full of honest moments of my life. 

I will keep them close to my heart for the rest of my life. I laughed until my stomach hurt. I ate the best (and the cheapest) food. I felt stars exploding inside of me. It made me realize that life is really quite simple. Us humans get to experience living for a little while. We get moments that let us learn how to love ourselves. We get moments that teach us how to love others. All of the chaotic, the magical, and the peculiar. New York taught me that to have a life is a gift. There is always a sunny day around the corner. Happiness does not come from ignoring the clouds. Happiness is cultivated when you are present in every moment with your whole heart. 

            New York City made me feel so big, while simultaneously making me feel so small and so insignificant to this world. It made me believe in dreams so much bigger than myself. It pushed me to want to be better. To do better. To live better. I came to fall in love with each sip of coffee I drank, as if each sip was the best I ever had. Every piece of street art, gallery, glass of wine, bagel, museum, billboard, couple in love, independent woman, skyscraper—was more spectacular and magnificent than the last. I understood that Times Square at 3 AM was among the finer things in life. Surrounded by bright lights and silence and the beauty of falling in love with a moment in time. 

 

Yet what I do know is there is an abundance of strength and perseverance. I see a family who is together in Collingwood, Ontario for three days after months apart. My dad had just returned from his first deployment in Afghanistan, meeting us in Colorado Springs after our move from Portage la Prairie. I see my brother, finding himself in first year of university while balancing a social life and eventual degree in astrophysics. I see my mom, one of the strongest people I know, admiring the family she has built. I see my sister, standing and laughing after fighting a mysterious illness not two years before. And I see me, invisible behind the lens, capturing the people I love most, drawing on their strength and perseverance as I enter into one of the most pivotal years of my life. 

I love Dungeons and Dragons. I love dungeons and dragons so much, that I have spent over 100 hours on the same dang campaign. I’ve got a big white binder of handwritten notes that’s an inch thick. I’m the one running this show, the Dungeon Master, as you will. That means I build the world, the encounters, and yell at my players for making stupid decisions. I really got into D&D during a bout of agoraphobia while I was house-sitting for a friend back in like 2016. I was very alone—just me in a big dark house with some books on how to design a world. And design I did! I built mountain ranges locked in eternal magic-fuelled nuclear winter, mountain basins filled with rainforests, ruined cityscapes crawling with mutants, and haunted Lovecraftian New Jersey. I created a cabal of vampire ninjas, teams of Mad Max racers, an Elven empire based on the Aztecs, and an evil supercomputer made of telekinetic slime. The best part of D&D is having people to share it with, so of course, I gave this world to my friends from middle school. We still hang out, still in the same group chats, still in each other’s lives. They are part of the group of people I love the most, and I wanted to give them the best playground to play in. An added bonus feature is that I know what scares them, and I can tailor encounters to scare the Bejesus out of them. Hey, I never said I was a good friend. 

My parents, understandably, are not thrilled about my choice of hobby. I’ve been threatened to be thrown out over Dungeons and Dragons. Then again, I’ve been discouraged from dance, writing, art, video games, television, reading, sewing, and cooking. I’ve run out of ladylike hobbies, and there’s only so much catering to a family a woman can do. Does a woman have not the privilege, nay, the right, to drink rosé and do bad German accents at her friends for 4 hours, only to have her friends do them back? Only true love, the love of the game, the campaign, could prompt such a waste of time. It’s a hobby with no career, despite the dissections. I could be a writer, or an artist, or anything else that falls under the D&D umbrella, but why would I want to do that? I should be allowed to do what I want, and what I want is to play Dungeons and Dragons. I’m done trying to turn hobbies into something that benefits a larger form of creation. Creation is the point now. Hypocrite that I am, I still hype it up in job interviews—Why yes, I’m part of a group that tries to meet once a month, usually we solve puzzles together. It’s so tough to get five schedules to line up. Yes, puzzles normally with hypothetical outcomes, philosophical, yes, I knooooow, there’s so much math involved what with the probabilities and all. Yeah, I know. I’m not sorry about anything.

When I am warmed by your presence, I like to stay

Just because I know that you don’t come to visit as often anymore

But also, because you have deeply affected me: you are so dear to our family.

 

 

I remember the day your leaf fell from earth’s tree

Aunt Edna got the call; she didn’t tell us what happened, but the shift of air chilled us like a cold breeze.

“Glen might be dead” she said, although we knew the truth, the “might be” is the words we held.

 

 

Sometimes I flashback to your smile

So genuine,

it wasn’t just an inverted arch fixed upon your lips, but shone throughout your whole face.

A laugh and sound that remains in my memory, it will always last:

 like an old favourite song one remembers so vividly from the past

 

 

My cool Uncle Glen

Up to date with all the new gadgets, the world traveller, and unrivalled in generosity

You Drove two hours to bring my Mom flowers, bought her a new car to start our family.

Now I revere your selfless nature, living for now, but even more so living for others:

but now I see that

sometimes

that

just

is

not

enough.

 

 

Hemophiliac, Hep C, diagnosed at 15 with HIV

A woman no matter how in love could not take on that responsibility.

But to trust a world free of romantic love, because of unjust human disease:

Is to go beyond our nature, something so rare to be seen.

 

 

I think that was what made me see that hell is not reality,

A man who became suffering on Earth does not extend into eternity.

The Devil is not God, their positions are reversed

You made water into wine,

Were admired for dealing with your curse.

Therefore, this poem does not do justice, because your life is a song,

and this poem is merely an attempt at one single verse.

 

I remember the night your leaf fell from earth’s tree,

My mom held me tight, we gathered with friends and family.

We sat in the living room when a church elder said:

“Glen’s death is no different from cancer”

A quote so engrained in my Grandfathers head,

That he will repeat the phrase if he sees you again. 

 

 

The day you were diagnosed with HIV was the day you knew the Earth was “not for me”

That did not stop you from “being,” that did not stop you from showing others how “to be”

Uncle Glen, my hero, you live through me.

 

 

For although you may escape my mind,

You will always be a leaf on my tree,

Rather a root or foundation that will be passed down: your generosity.

See you don’t need to live to “be”

You are more than just a memory

Because so much of you/your traits will forever flow through our family.

 

 

You taught me how to live now with the tools that we’re given.

You taught me that we live through the lives we touch.

You taught me that nothing comes for free.

So Uncle Glen,

thank you

for

everything. 

By this point, my wife had not slept a full night in months. She was constantly up all night feeding her son, comforting him, or just loving him. Even on the nights that I would get up with him, she would still be woken by every little sound, or even when there was no sound to be heard. Each morning, she was up with him by 5am. Then, the rest of the day was spent looking after him. 

During this period, I was working full time at my accounting job and taking online courses. Every waking second that I was not working or studying, was spent hanging out with my little buddy. We were tired and were cooped up.

You probably cannot see it, but when I look at this picture, I can feel the sun on our faces. I can smell the pine trees all around us. I can taste the crisp fresh air. I can hear the waves washing onto the shoreline. I can remember the laughter as we tried to get a good photo with this little mover. I feel the pleasant discomfort of being a little too full after the giant steak I finished eating. This moment was just after dinner, around 6pm. It was the end to an eventful day of exploring new things, watching my dogs swim, touching everything in sight, with many smiles to be had. Finally, we were rested, we were relaxed, we got out. 

 

Running at me first is Clyve, my Maltese-Yorkie. Weighing 10 pounds soaking wet, he’s a small dog with big dog energy. Even at his size, he is solid and strong with not even an ounce of fat on his brown, smooth exterior. He is the oldest and the self-proclaimed protector of the house and begins to sniff me from head to toe. Once he’s inspected and confirmed that it’s me, I kneel down to scratch behind his tiny, floppy ears and am subject to a series of light, playful licks on my hands and face. I bring his petite paws up on my shoulders and continue to scratch around his nose and under his chin. This moment does not last long. Barrelling close behind is our new Australian-Labra doodle, Walter. He’s only four months old, but already bigger and burlier than his older brother. He gallops towards me and trips over his own massive, black and white paws as he hurdles over Clyve to douse me with kisses all over my face. I run my hands through his soft, blanket-like, fluffy fur, and slowly begin to lose my balance, ending up falling onto my back where I am hounded with even more kisses. Lying on the floor being showered with love from my two puppies, I’ve completely forgotten about any struggles from the earlier hours. In that moment all I am thinking about is how lucky I am to receive this welcome-home party each and every day.

 

I love everything about my dogs. I love waking up every morning to be greeted with their faces pressed against the glass basement door just waiting to say hello. I love the way their droopy ears and shaggy tails jolt up when I ask them if they want to go outside or for a walk. I love when we are sitting on the couch watching TV together and they flip over onto their backs to get some belly scratches. When I am eating a snack, I love seeing their salivating mouths and captivated eyes, fixated on me, waiting to see if I drop a bite so they can get a taste. 

 

More than anything, I love their ability to make me smile after a tough and defeating day. Seeing them interact with each other makes me laugh in a way that is difficult to put into words. They are so different but compliment each other so well. Clyve is in guard-dog mode all the time, positioned by the window with his ears pointed up on high-alert and wary of any strangers who come near the house or even drive by. Walter is the opposite; he’s a big ball of affection, loving everyone and everything in sight. He’s still so young but growing so quickly, and stumbles around the house following his older brother trying to learn the ways of the world. I can only sit idly by and chuckle when watching them wrestle over the same squeaky toy or scrap over the same chewed up bone. The way they chase each other in circles outside and tussle in the living room is the same way my younger brother and I used to fight when we were kids. What I love most is seeing them finally tire each other out and snuggle together to nap in the same kennel.

 

When I was nine, my family had a beautiful golden retriever named Buddy. For 15 years he was my best friend, and when I was younger, I often cancelled plans with my school friends so that I could stay home and play with him. When he passed away last year, I did not believe that I would ever feel a bond with another dog truly like that ever again. The human-animal connection is a love like no other; it’s unconditional and pure and free of judgment. Now, I feel so blessed that I have two incredible, fun-loving fur balls that sincerely do make my life whole again. Their wet, sloppy kisses are the best start to the day and leaving the house is always a challenge because I never want to say goodbye to them. In a funny way, my relationship with my dogs has taught me to be patient and responsible, but also silly and vulnerable. I’ve learned to appreciate what I have in my life and feel fortunate for being surrounded by so much love. I care so deeply for Walter and Clyve, and I cannot imagine my life without them. They are my passion, they are my loves, and they are my two best friends.

 

I was lost. I walked about aimlessly waiting for my next class. There was no rhyme or reason, just waiting. Even though I knew where I was and what I was doing, I was lost.

“Do you have a moment to talk,” a man said as he approached me. I didn’t know the man. He was black with a foreign accent. He was about the same height as me although more broadly built, which doesn’t say much given my especially skinny, lanky frame. There was nothing of significance about the man. I could’ve crossed paths with him several times during the year and never noticed. I didn’t know what he wanted but I had an hour to wait before my next class. What could be the harm in a conversation with a stranger?

We sat down in the lounge at the University Centre, not far from the bookstore. His accent was distracting at first. I thought It would make it difficult to understanding him but I was able to quickly move past it. It was like watching a movie where everyone spoke quickly with a heavy French accent and no subtitles. Eventually you just catch on.

He started speaking to me about religion. It seemed like an odd subject to bring up with a complete stranger. I’ve often considered raising religion up in conversation as taboo unless you were familiar with your audience. Still, I considered myself open minded and contributed to the conversation.

We spoke of how people forgive one another. The man identified how people are willing to forgive but never truly forget. God on the other hand would always forgive and forget. It was an interesting if unexpected conversation.

This moment in my life is important not because of what happened but because of what’s missing. I had never been in a good placed during my time at university. My mental health was low.

I was raised by a Catholic family. We went to church on Sundays like many families around us did. Although religion was important, it was never forced on me and we rarely spoke of it at home. As a result, I was never a very pious person. I often kept my beliefs to myself but still grew up with a sense of faith.

After a few years of university that faith had waned. I was lonely in the city. I felt disconnected from everybody and was in a constant state of depression. I began to wonder it there was anything more to life. I was not suicidal – at least not yet – but I did question whether there was a higher power. It seemed strange to me that a higher power would exist in a world were someone could feel so miserable all the time. These thoughts started to sprout just a day or two before meeting the man. After our meeting I felt different though.

Without this conversation my point of view on life could have taken a drastic turn. I may have been much more negative. I may have become uncaring. I may have become ungrateful. I cannot be sure, but I think this man changed the course of my life.

I never new his name and never saw him again.

I chose a picture of my high school friend group, The High Five. We have called ourselves this since we were in the 12^thgrade. The five of us, versus the world. This picture was taken about a year ago, but we are still thick as thieves. As in every friend group, we all play different roles. I am the organizer and the one who makes sure everyone is safe, Brynn is the wild and crazy, Devon is the calm in the chaos, Leo is the words of wisdom, and Amy is the laugh everyone always needs. In high school when we weren’t on the sidelines of each other’s volleyball games, or making fun of Brynn because she was a year younger than us. (okay, we still do that) we were in Brynn’s basement on her couch playing a game (usually orchestrated by yours truly) So, I have decided the couch in this photo is what matters most. It is where Brynn had her first kiss. It is where I cried through my parents’ divorce. It is where Amy confided in us about her mental health struggles. It is where Leo has made me laugh more times than I can count. It is where Brynn and I have watched an entire season of Criminal Minds in one sitting. It is where Devon has convinced us all to go get Slurpee’s at 2am. We still always seem to want to find trouble these days, and often gather in one of our parent’s basements in our hometown to play some kind of orchestrated game just like old times. Although our lives are taking us all different places, my favourite place will be on that couch in a family rec room with The High Five. 

Sunny, 35 degrees Celsius, Alecia and I are in pants and sneakers ready for pool maintenance prior to the summer pool season. Being lifeguards with some extra time as we just finished our first year of university, agreed to help with the pre-season work. This year’s main task: sanding down the big water slide so that it could be re-painted and finished. Day after day, we squished in the slide and sanded a new section. Direct sunlight, slide dust flying, jelly arms and cramped legs, we began to laugh through our masks and goggles. How could I be laughing right now? I knew the answer, Alecia’s contagious laugh reminded me to enjoy each day we get. Even when we are sanding a slide in the heat of summer. The laughter was followed by a moment of encouragement from Alecia reminding me how far we have come already on the project and that we are in this together, motivating me to work hard. 

Alecia has taught me to strive to be my best self and take advantage of opportunities that come my way. She has taught me to work hard at my goals and do what I am passionate about. She constantly reminds me to never give up on my dreams. She pushes me to reach my full potential. She believes in me. Alecia has been the most positive influence on my overall health. She wakes up with me at 6:00 am to go workout with me because she knows I need the extra motivation. She supports and encourages me in my faith. When I get overwhelmed and anxious, she remind me to take a step back and take care of myself. She has and continues to help me learn and grow in many areas of my life. She brings out the best in me. I admire Alecia for her passion in volunteering at different clinics, her work ethic, and her ability to make people feel important and loved. Alecia is not only a friend, roommate, co-worker, gym partner, study buddy but my role model. 

Dancing to death, the leaves spin

Discarded masks the ground collects begrudgingly 

Sirens ring, people scream... silence remains

Laughter, life, love... nevermore... nevermore…

Bending, breaking, broken, standing, struggling, hoping
(Again the font size grows smaller through the first three words and then grows back up to the end)

It was a chilly fall afternoon. I parked my car on far down on Burland. The street was bustling due to end of the day activities.I approached the school for my first volleyball practice at 3:30pm. I was the Head Coach. I remember thinking nervously, knowing that the group of boys I was given to coach was “difficult”. Opening the door to the school, I entered the gymnasium, listening to the sound of balls bouncing, the net being set up, and the boys discussing volleyball. I knew that this was where I belonged. I knew this is where the adventure began. I know that this group is wild, but I was that kid too. 

I gather the boys to introduce myself. “My name is Thomas and I’m a physical education student at the university of Manitoba, I’ve been told by Mr.M that you should call me Coach, but I’d like you to call me Thomas”. Some boys call me coach, others call me Thomas, but I know that I’ve made a connection with them. I know that they’ll listen. 

I decide to ask: “what do they want out of this season?”. “Win” is the response they have as they introduce themselves to me. I thought to myself “I think we can win, but I have to show them the way, show them how to have fun and move”. I explain to them that the goal is a great goal, but the most important part of winning is the work that comes before it. We work together to set clear expectations, they smile, we laugh as we create rules when we come on to the court. They know that they can be themselves, because they know that I was one of them. 

That first season is one I will never forget. I walked into the gymnasium in my second last year of Physical Education pondering if I really wanted to be a teacher. I walked into the gymnasium with a “difficult group”. I walked into that gymnasium with everything and nothing to prove. I walked into that gymnasium only wanting one thing, for the boys to have fun. 

Those “difficult” boys made me realize my purpose. They gave me the confidence to approach situations with a level-head. I gave them the confidence to just be themselves and have fun. They wanted to be treated like young adults, attempting to escape the grounds of “middle school”. They were on their way to high-school and wanted to be treated as if they were humans. They gave me the confidence to talk to them honestly, treat them like people. They gave me the confidence to admit: “I want to be a teacher”. There are times where I know I’ll have a “difficult” group, but I always have to remind myself that I was one of them and that’s why I’m here. 

Growing up, Devon and I fought a lot. We never really got along, being the “princess” of the family, I used that to my advantage to get him in trouble in any way I could. After years of fighting we suddenly stopped, I believe I was around 14 years old and Devon was 17. We were making food and I asked him why we haven’t fought in a long time, Devon told me his fear was that we would hinder our relationship to the point where we would never talk to each other again. He chose to take a step back from the fighting and build a strong relationship with me. Ever since that day, Devon was my best friend. We did absolutely everything together, he was someone that I could talk to about whatever was on my mind, he was always there for me. I’m very thankful that we were able to build a strong relationship together.

For this post I have shared two pictures, I chose these two pictures because I feel as though they clearly depict the relationship we had. The First picture is of the day I graduated high school.  The second picture is a caption that Devon put for a picture of me on my birthday, “Happy 18^th Birthday to the #1 women in my life! I love you so much Reethu, words can’t describe how important you are in my life and how much I really love/ need you with me all the time. You’ve turned out to become the most amazing women I’ve ever met in my life, don’t ever change beautiful, I really love you.”

I look back at these pictures every day, I have the same few words going through my mind “words cannot describe how important you are in my life and how much I really love/ need you all the time” I wish I was able to say these exact same words to him myself. I wish I had expressed that to him during the short time I had with him. I’m thankful that Devon has left a lasting impression with so many family and friends. I’m constantly hearing new stories from everyone around me, and those stories are what keep me smiling.

 

To me, the concept of happiness matters most. When I dive in to the idea of happiness, everything in my life encircles this concept. I can easily admit that I am blessed, in that I have multiple streams of my life that make me feel happy. I chose happiness not because I have never felt sad, but because I believe that it is vital in strange and difficult times like this year to count my blessings and be thankful for all that my life has given me thus far. My family is my rock and growing up with a large family that all gets along is something I have realized can be rare, and thus have never taken for granted. Growing up, and still to this day, learning is something that makes me happy. Whether this be a new language, instrument, or subject in school, I value my ability to learn new things. In continuation of learning new skills, I love teaching others the skills that I learn. On top of this, cooking and eating delicious food is something that makes me happy. Whether this be socializing with friends and family at a restaurant, or successfully not burning a meal while at home, I love it all. I have been very lucky in being able to travel so much from a young age. Last year I had the opportunity to live in the happiest country in the world, Denmark, for four months. It is truly the happiest that I have ever been. I love exploring new places and cultures. Having various hobbies and taking time for myself every week brings me happiness. I believe having a creative outlet or taking time to enjoy the outdoors has helped me grow immensely as a person. I love doing things for fun, and for no other reason. All of these, as well as many others, give my life substance and meaning. My happiness stems directly from these five areas of my life, as well as being able to share these things with others. Although I do realize that every day is not going to be simply happy, I do believe that happiness can be found in something every day. I rely on these five main sources of happiness to help me through my toughest days, as well as make my happy days even happier. My own personal happiness, and the happiness of those around me is constantly at the forefront of my mind and dictates how, and who, I spend my time with. I will conclude with this question; what makes you happy?

Why are we taught to admire another’s outward beauty? Why are we taught at a young age that “makeup makes up look more beautiful”? Why can’t we give more appreciation to our bodies and actually recognize how hard it works for us daily – even if we do not treat it right.  

In the next 214 words, we are going to take a moment to appreciate the bones in our body. They deserve and award. All 206 of them. We give so much attention to our skin and our hair. But our bones… they work hard for us. And they make sure we know that. Since birth, our bones have been getting stronger so that we can carry out all the wishes and desires we have in life. To walk you through the highest of mountains. Or you move you along to the beat of the music. They work hard to get you through that strenuous workout and they work hard just to get us out of bed in the morning. 

We often forget that we need to care for our bones too. The same way that we care for our skin and our hair. We spend so much time sitting and slouching that it puts unnecessary stress on our neck and spine. And what about all those times we neglect the aches and pains in our feet because we tell ourselves “I have to keep going”. 

There might come a point in life where our bones will start to become weaker. Getting older isn’t something we can avoid. Take care of your body and appreciate what we have.  

Thank you bones. 

            I love the sight of a meticulously manicured baseball diamond. I love the click-clicking sound of metal cleats walking across a concrete dugout floor. I love the smell of pine tar as you grip a baseball bat. I love the feeling of making contact with a pitch so cleanly that you don’t even feel it connect with the bat. I love the crack sound as the wooden bat connects with the ball and sends it between the outfielders. I love the anticipation as I wait for the pitcher to begin his windup towards home so that I can make a mad dash to steal second base. I love the loud smack a catcher’s mitt makes as the pitcher puts the ball exactly where I place his target. I love the feeling of telling the pitcher to throw a curveball when the whole park is expecting a fastball. 

            Some of my happiest childhood memories have either occurred on a diamond or with people that I made connections with while playing baseball. Our common love for the game and our shared experiences has created a unique bond with teammates from the past. Accompanying these happy memories are also some major times of sadness and disappointment. Sport has taught me to not get too high when things are going good or too low when the going gets tough, and that some things are out of our control. The baseball field served as a place for me to fulfill my passion, to create lasting friendships, and learn valuable lessons that have made me into the person that I am today.

            One reason this picture is important to me is because it reminds me of the power and the importance of exploration. The tree is growing in the middle of rock, a place that is supposed to prevent such growth. Yet, this tree pushed through and had done so for many, many years. It was something I was amazed by, yet, if we had not decided to venture off from our original plan we would have missed it.  As someone who is amazed by the environment and loves being outside this was a sight that warranted a picture. It reminded me of the importance of getting outside and exploring things, even if it is in your own community. Even though we were only a short distance from our road we managed to find something new and I think this idea relates to every community. You never know what you might find. 

            A second reason this photo speaks to me is because of the memory that is associated with it. It was a weekend where we got to get away after a challenging winter and recharge before the summer started. It is times like this that even though I know she is rolling her eyes at me and humoring me when I am talking about how cool this tree is that I truly grasp how thankful I am to have people like her in my life. People that support you in your simplest interests or craziest ideas. They give an effort to show interest in the things that you enjoy even if it is not something they enjoy. These types of people can make a picture say a thousand words. They make a picture that may not seem all that important be one that you cannot delete from your camera role because every time you scroll by it takes you back into the middle of the forest where that one tree is growing straight out of a rock. 

 

I love travelling. I love the fear of the unknown paired with the excitement of adventure. I love meeting new people from all over the world. I love the smell, taste and touch of a new city, no two ever the same. I love immersing myself in other cultures. I love the friendly faces of hostel owners. I love planning. I love the calm look of a city from thousands of feet above. I love the last minute changes. I love being lost in dark streets with no sense of urgency or fear. I love the feeling of getting home. I love learning others stories and taking their perspectives with me. I love the busy days. I love the relaxing days. I love being pushed far out of my comfort zone. I love feeling so small. I love trying to pack everything I want to bring into a small pink backpack. I love that it never fits in that backpack on the way home. I love reflecting when I get home and staring at the same pictures year after year and still feeling the joy as if I was still there. I love that no two people are travelling for the exact same reason. 

 

The moment I described in my first scene was right after I had landed in Bangkok, alone for two days before my friends joined me. Bangkok is BUSTLING. That single moment is replayed in my head like a tape every time I feel overwhelmed while exploring a new place. Travelling has taught me empathy, compassion and understanding for others, other cultures and myself. I have learned that no matter how hard I work to plan a trip; it is inevitable that the course will change, and that can feel scary. Sometimes getting lost is actually more fun than sticking with the plan. Travelling has taught me that experiences are more valuable than material objects. Being exposed to other cultures where people own far less made me horrified at how much unnecessary stuff I owned. I now try to buy pre loved items for my home or self when I can. Most importantly travelling has taught me that everyone everywhere basically longs for the same thing. We all live vastly different lives in the context of family, work and social circles but we are all incredibly alike in seeking love, happiness and validation. Although we may all have different ways of viewing these objectives or working towards achieving them, the desire is constant. This has taught me that you can relate to almost anyone if you peel back the superficial layers that separates us.

We soon saw these individuals riding around in ATV’s while going up and down sand dunes. They greeted us with a smile and seemed very friendly, we asked for a ride and he ended up taking us through muddy puddles and drifting. The combination of both fear and adrenaline was exhilarating while the after-effects left me with this memorable picture and a smile on my face. For a moment, I could escape what was going on in the world and enjoy that time with some of my closest friends. This is my most memorable image during a time that was difficult for the entire world. All I could hope for is that during a time like this, every person worldwide, had a moment like this to be immersed in their happy place. 

This experience taught me that no matter how bad a moment in time may seem, there is always a way to overcome it. Perseverance can be defined as “continue in a course of action even in the face of difficulty or with little or no prospect of success.” To me, this means pushing through any tough moment in my life and to look for the brighter side of every scenario presented. I have learned to appreciate and surround myself with those that mean the most to me. Every experience has a lesson built within and it is up to us how we want to perceive these experiences that shape our future selves. 

 

When the Andy Warhol retrospective exhibit arrived at the Winnipeg Art Gallery, I saw that iconic banana on the advertisement, and I knew instantly that I had to go. Once again, I pleaded with my wonderful mom to take me and my freshly dyed head of black back-combed hair to the Winnipeg Art Gallery. I put on my favourite white denim jacket filled with band patches and studs, a selection of clunky plastic bangles, and bright red lipstick to attend my first ever art exhibit. Within minutes of stepping into the stark white and glossy floored gallery, I knew that I had to become a painter.

 

I love the flexibility and freedom of expression that painting provides. I love the daunting fear of a fresh white canvas. I love the endless possibilities only limited by your imagination. I love the way that every person mixes colour so differently. I love how you can find inspiration in absolutely anything, even a speck of dust on a record sleeve. I love how someone may paint heavy-handedly and messy, like the guitar playing of Johnny Thunders; or create something so deep and delicate, like the voice of Nico on that monumental screen-printed banana album. 

 

But putting yourself out there is terrifying. When you become an artist, you open yourself up to criticism and critique like no other. For me, that was extremely difficult. Like, permanent-lump-stuck-my-throat-my-whole-degree kind of difficult. In art school, you must grow thick skin very quickly, but thick skin only comes with time and experience. Today I wear mine like it is my armour, and my secret weapon is to remind myself that art is completely subjective. After all, some people consider Andy Warhol’s famous screen-printed banana aesthetic fraud, and I consider it a masterpiece.

My brother always had a sort of magnetism to him, almost to the point where people need to schedule hangout appointments with him just because they enjoy his company that much. I remember one particular time roughly 6-ish years ago that he and I went to the bank as he needed to deposit money. This was a bank that he used to work at as a Financial Advisor for several years so I expected him to make short conversations with a few of his old co-workers there. The second that the man entered the bank it seems as if every worker’s day just got a whole lot better. Initially, about 4 of the workers came up to talk to him while he was there, asking about his life and how he has been. Just observing my brother speak to them in such a genuine and personable tone made me understand why they jumped at the chance to speak to him again. Once the workers went back to work, my brother deposited his cash and on our way out he’s called into an office with 2 other people looking to chat with him. Apparently, my brother never dabbled in “small-talk” because somehow he had year-long meaningful responses to everything that everyone was saying. There was an elderly greeter at the door that has also known my brother for the time that he worked there, as I’m standing by the entrance waiting for my brother to finish his conversations the greeter looks at me and smiles. “This is what happens when you’re a nice person,” he says as he was observing my brother interact with his past colleagues. 

Throughout the years, Jansen always taught me that being a man isn’t how tough you are or how many friends you have, it’s about treating people with respect and dignity. He showed me this not only by telling me but also by witnessing his interactions with such a large number of people. 

I’m 23 years old and I still look at my brother the same way I did when I was 9. He’ll always be my biggest role model.

“Darnell, you’re the last one we’re talking to today.”

“Yeah.. I hope I did okay..” I say timidly

“You’ve practiced with us for awhile, you do understand that there’s a lot that you need to work on moving forward right?”

“..I do understand” I murmur as I am fully expecting the worst at this point.

“Good, welcome to the team”

I had read somewhere before that a person experiences something known as a “Milestone Moment” 6-8 times throughout their life. These are significant life experiences that mark the start of a new chapter in one’s life. I believe this particular occasion was one of them.

I love everything about the game. I love passing a hard serve, I love the sound that the ball makes on a perfect spike, I love that I can play casually and competitively and I love watching others and learning from them. Even if I didn’t like every second of playing, I do appreciate all the moments that I was able to take part in. I learned how to deal with the emotions following a loss and to add to that, dealing with the emotions of losing a LOT. I learned the responsibility that a team captain holds, being able to invigorate the team and acting as a role model for younger students was something that I want to carry with me throughout the rest of my life. I also learned to accept that no matter how good our team got there will always be a team that is ready to challenge us, as Christopher Earle once said “be humble in victory and gracious in defeat.”

My love for volleyball is something that I want to pass down to others. The sport plays a big part as to why I want to become a Phys Ed teacher, I’ve seen the effect that amazing coaches have on their players both on the court and outside of it. I also have witnessed the downfall of one of my teams due to poor leadership, this is something I hope none of my future students have to face when playing the sport. I want to facilitate an environment where fun and competitiveness come hand in hand.

          I love the game of basketball and I am immersed in every aspect of it. Still, my love for basketball did not match the general sport preferences of the majority in Winnipeg, so I did not develop it as much as I wanted to. Basketball is not popular here in Canada as it is the USA or Europe. Hockey is the most popular sport here and naturally the broader possibilities are open to athletes who prefer playing hockey. Despite that, I have stayed active through participating in recreational basketball. 

         My love for basketball has taught me not to give up my passions despite obstacles and has reminded me of the importance to stay true to myself. These are the values that sports develop in children everywhere and this is exactly why it is essential that all children participate in sports or activities one way or another. A team setting such as basketball or even jazz band, helps build communication skills, teamwork and cohesiveness. These are essential skills that transfer over into all aspects of life. 

I remember the first time I thought of Kacey as more than my annoying sister. It was my first time babysitting her for an entire day. We planned on going to the movies but had instructions from our mom to walk our dog Saber before we left. I told Kacey that I would pull her in the wagon as we would walk to the movies, but she was determined that she was big enough to walk the whole way. Our air-conditioned home neglected to tell us that it was thirty degrees outside. About halfway through the walk, I hear a whimper complaining that I did not bring a wagon. Not wanting to miss the matinee with Kacey's little legs trailing behind, I had to give her a piggyback. Our shirts stuck together with sweat, and I prayed Saber would not try to chase anything in fear I could not hold her back with a sixty-pound child on my back. I soon realized how heavy a five-year-old child could be, coupled with the weight of her voice, wining that she was too hot and tired. 

By the time we made it back home, we had to leave for the theatre. Feeling grumpy and exhausted, we washed up and changed, not wanting to miss Minions as I promised her a week ago we could see it. I knew the walk would be awful as a wagon ride was not an option this time. We set off, and the air was more relaxed, but Kacey was just as upset, yet she did not take the offer of staying home. I was excited to have a day all to myself with her, but I was starting to feel regret. Thankfully we made it to the movies not as a pool of sweat. I thought snacks would lighten our mood. Unfortunately, it made the tension worse. A heated argument broke out, as having a slushy and gummy bears were not enough because popcorn was essential. Trying to explain to a five-year-old that there is something as too much junk food was very challenging and resulted in the silent treatment. After the movie, we walk home; by then, it was early in the evening, and the sun was setting. Kacey was in a better mood but clearly tired, surprisingly not enough to keep complaining that she wanted to be pulled in a wagon. I was at my wit's end by the time we made it home. Wanting this day to be perfect, I felt defeated. I told Kacey she could stay up for another hour as it was not her bedtime then I went to the washroom to wash off this day. 

When I came back, I found her curled up and asleep on the couch, exhausted from our adventure. Her face was half squished on a pillow with her hair cascading down her face. She almost looked like a baby again in her fetal position. She seemed so small and fragile. I knew then our day was worth it. What felt like the longest day ever felt sped forward. I barely remember her as a baby, but it did not feel that long ago, and Kacey was five already. My days with her as a child were short, as my dad likes to say, you are old a lot longer than you are young. Suddenly I became happy that we spent all day together, even though it was not as perfect as I planned. The day she is not a nuisance to me, she will be all grown up, which gave me a melancholy feeling. I realized that day how important she really was to me.    

She has shaped who I am and who I want to become. I grew up with four brothers in a chaotic mess of a home. Consequently, it was hard to get attention and even harder to have your voice heard. My two older brothers had each other, as did my two younger brothers, and so I felt lonely at times. By the time Kacey was born, my two older brothers had moved out, our parents were divorced, and my younger brothers and I were in our teens, switching back and forth from our parent’s homes. I never wanted Kacey to feel like she was alone, so I made sure she could depend on me for anything. Whenever she needs help with school work, I am there learning with her, when she needs help with her crazy curly hair, I am there with a comb, and when she needs a break, I am ready for a bike ride or to watch Disney movies. Being a dependable sister has become a trait I admire the most about myself and a goal I want to translate into my teaching. I want to be more than just a passive teacher in students' lives. I hope to be at minimum, a positive influence during a student's experience at school, an educator that students can come too if they are having any trouble. What Kacey taught me is time flies fast, and children should not be stressed at school, they have their adulthood for that. Being a dependable person is essential to me, and I have Kacey to thank for that.

 

We met spontaneously at an earring making event and were fast friends. We went to The Good Will to listen to a brass band. We both wore the earrings we made. It was magical. The music, the drinks, the conversation. It felt like we were floating, like we were infinite. An unspoken agreement covered the booth between us, we would be great friends for life. Her energy was contagious, something I later found out she felt the same for me, and her presence was undeniable. 

 

In those hours we talked about everything – about ourselves, our goals, the future, disappointments, missed loves, current loves, happiness, Chinese food, habits, home. It was one of the first times in Winnipeg I felt I had found a piece of myself again. We had both moved here for jobs and were trying our best to embrace the unpredictable mountains and valleys of life. It was a night that I will cherish forever. It solidified our friendship, our support for one another, our passions that were confirmed to be worthy by someone like minded. We hugged outside in the cold air and as I walked home I wrote in my phone a note to myself: “remember how you feel right now, you feel like you.” 

 

Danielle makes it easy to write about her, catching the light like a piece of glitter. One moment it’s there, the next its lost, only to catch the light unexpectantly again. She has shaped me in ways that are hard to express. At a time where I was struggling to be here, in my own anxiety, in my apartment, in Winnipeg, in a space that felt unmoving and uninspired, she helped shift it. We both decide to go back to school for education the following winter. We had simple goals: save the planet, shape future generations. It was her persistence and bravery that I admired most, serendipitously crafting her way into my life. She was a force to be reckoned with, a winter wind, soft but powerful enough to make drifts. She continues to inspire me to be more vocal, more nurturing to myself, more aggressive in what I want, more imaginative of what I could have, more vulnerable, more giving, more energetic, more open. More everything. 

 

She was all of that and more. “Was”. How odd to say. Even before she was gone I drew on her tenacity and energy, often asking myself “what would Danielle do?”. If she were here, it would be nothing short of changing the world, I’m sure of it. Danielle passed away in March of 2019 to a plane crash in Ethiopia. I was wearing the earrings the morning I heard. The electric candle from her Assiniboine-side memorial still sits in my nightstand, flickering when I need a little extra light. A duplicate of her yellow origami flower sits in one of my potted plants, thriving in a jungle of others. I feel her in the energy of my classrooms, in the warmth from the sun, in the horns when I turn on jazz, in the smell of samosas we shared in a cramped living room. I am so thankful for her having ever been a part of my life. I feel special that I was able to know someone like her and when I think or read about her, my heart fills up knowing that the short time she was here was well spent. It drives me to push and learn and grow, to continue becoming the best possible version of myself. She is like glitter. 

I love the body of water that is within arm’s reach of our home. I love the beautiful merriments that occur in and around it each season. I love the fog that rolls along the top, when the crisp winds of autumn churn with the warm air floating off the lake. I love when a deep drop in temperature causes it to freeze in the purest form, where we skate for miles in the dead of winter. I love the break up in the spring. I love watching the blocks of ice begin to separate and move toward the shores as they melt, like a droplet of soap being released into oil. I love hearing the waves softly breach the sandy shores when the months of summer return. I love the freeing feeling of diving beneath the surface on a sweltering day. I love the memories that are created around the water’s edge, with the people in my life who matter the most. I love visiting different bodies of water and the reassuring feeling they all have on my soul, as if I were immersed in the water by my home.

My love for the water has not only taught me to enjoy the stillness of life, but to also embrace the chaos that eventually subsides. The water has shown me how to create peace within myself when moments become thunderous. In times of uncertainty, the rhythmic heartbeat of the waves surge forward, reminding me to keep going, to persevere. Wherever I may be in the world, the water’s edge will always provide comfort. However, it is the body of water closest to home that I will forever cherish and love, till death do us part. 

 

This moment of the beginning of my wedding day was defining to me as I was overwhelmed with the support from family and friends. I felt a sense of belonging like I never thought possible.  During that huge change in my life, I felt a confidence and maturity like none other as my new wife and I were about to step into a brand new chapter of our lives. But in that moment,  we knew we weren’t alone as we could look out and see all the smiling faces there to support us. I love being around people, and  that day showed me that relationships is what can make a bad day good, and a good day great. Even after what felt like endless planning, I feel like all of that was left behind and having the people you love with you can make anything special. Feelings like this I can relate to my future profession as a teacher as it is an ultimate goal of mine to create that sense of belonging for all the students in my classroom. People matter, and their feelings matter too.  I feel my life is fueled by relationships and that is one of the many reasons I want to be a teacher. Not only do you build relationships with your students, but you are part of a community of educators that is there to support you even on your hardest days. 
  

 

I love all plants. I love starting from scratch with a single leaf and watching it grow into something beautiful. I love the excitement of purchasing a new plant. I love the calmness I feel while caring for my plant collection. I love ensuring that their roots are healthy. I love playing musical chairs with them around the house, so I know they are getting just enough sunlight. I love watering them, possibly a little too much. I love trimming old leaves to make room for new ones.  I love having long conversations with my fellow plant-loving friends. I love the fact that we can not only exchange tips and tricks, but we can also exchange plant clippings! I love browsing the produce section at the grocery store, getting lost in the plant section, picking out one or two, and convincing myself that you can never have enough plants.  

 

Plants are my passion because they give me a sense of accomplishment. It can be discouraging when a plant seems to be unhealthy no matter what I do to nurture it, but those feelings all go away when I see another one of my plants thriving and growing new leaves. Though I may not always notice until after, caring for my plants can be a huge stress reliever for me. There are some weeks where I neglect them more than others, but I always make sure to at least give them a little bit of water. Sometimes when walking around with the watering can, I can get carried away. I will start picking at dead leaves, changing their locations, or maybe even switch up their soil. A lot of the time I look back and an hour has passed by. I did not even notice because I was caught up in something that I enjoy and makes me feel accomplished.