Beware the Ides of March

A memory of my father's:

We were driving to my favourite park, High Park and I was seven years old. We had just dropped my mother off for Mass at St Ambrose Church, and were heading to my favourite childhood spiritual practice of laughing, screaming and running around like mad on swing sets, slides and roundabouts.

I was bouncing around in the passenger seat, buckled in. I turned to my father and said "I wish things could always stay like this. You taking me to the park."

I have a vague memory of this story. My father's is crystal clear. The more he reminds me of it, the more I think I remember that specific day, that specific ride to the park. I remember the desire, that specific longing. I'm not so sure I remember voicing it.

Whenever my father reminds me of it he says "You were little and you had just begun to understand that everything would change. You wanted it to stay the same. But you knew it wouldn't. It's the nature of life."

How funny, I thought, when I was recalling this conversation with my dad from his visit to Vancouver last year. I was seven and the issue was already showing itself. I know, I know, it's not exactly something the town crier needs to tell you.

Hear Ye! Hear Ye! Eufemia is resistant to change.

But still I know, it's the only constant in the Universe.

Change is good. Change is my friend. Ch-ch-changes!

All this to say, the change coming in terms of the blog is I'll be blogging less. It's time, I think. I couldn't keep up last week and the planets were aligned in such a way that indicated yadda yadda yadda. I resisted the change, and so "stress making, 80% tension coming from the stress. No good, no good. We human and this stress making."

Prem, my peeps, prem (love). And thank you for keeping me company, I wouldn't have made it this far without you. I have felt intensely lonely at times but I knew, I knew I wasn't alone.

And please, not worry, I'll be blogging you.