This Is Us

Do you remember how unbearably hot it was when we finally met in person? The temperature must’ve reached 104 degrees before it hit noon. You installed a rusty old air conditioner you borrowed from your sister so we could comfortably take turns being the little spoon? I remember you nearly dropped it out the window of your brownstone, and I chuckled at your clumsiness. I hate that, when I think about it, I still find it endearing.

Do you remember waking up one morning with your hands stuck to the insides of my dewy, sun-kissed thighs? ’Cause even with the…

I’m sitting in front of the television of a small, apartment-style hotel in Chicago. The space looks like something out of a House & Home magazine circa 1998, with heavy floral drapes and a particle-board dresser made to look like mahogany. It isn’t the fanciest place I’ve been put up in for a work-related trip, but I’m pleased it’s clean at least. I do love this city, and its Midwestern charm.

Back home in Toronto, it’s Thanksgiving weekend and for the first time, in a long time, I am missing a family celebration. Despite it being morning, I’m sure my…

I came across a family portrait I had drawn when I was little. Back when my kid brother was just a twinkle in the sky. I drew myself the same height as my father, with my mother towering over us.

She looks authoritative, but not oppressive. More like she is omnipotent. To me, she was Creator. Her eyes looked like lanterns, and I crayoned them the greenest of greens.

She taught me how to spell the word “green”. She told me about all the colours:

Primary, secondary, tertiary.

While my peers with white-collared parents couldn’t pencil their own names, there…