Category: Vincent
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Autumn nipping at my heels
How on earth did it get to be October already? Georgia is five months old, Vincent’s in first grade, and middle child Aidan is universally praised as sweet and gentle and photogenic as hell: The lateness of the year terrifies me — intimations of mortality etc. — but I love autumn. Kicking leaves on the…
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Auld Lang Syne
I don’t want to let the year end without saying that, for all of 2011’s sorrows, I am deeply and heartfelt-fully grateful for my family — my boys, my husband, sisters, brothers, cousins, aunts, etc. — and all my loyal and loving friends — virtual and otherwise. You remind me of what’s true and dear…
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The Writing Blues
My children are ever so much more productively writing than I am. Vincent’s discovering the discoveries and challenges of reading and writing, and Aidan is doggedly working on his own mysterious pages. I, on the other hand, have written exactly two poems since my mother died. That Salamander will be publishing one of them in…
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Despite it all…
…I know I’m lucky. I’m lucky that I was born to a great mother, that I loved her and told her so all the time. That I was able to be there for her and that she let me care for her was a real blessing. A critical illness has a way of burning away…
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Let it snow! (Baby, it’s cold outside…)
Finally, the day after Christmas, we’re having our first real honest-to-goodness snow storm! There’s nowhere we have to be, plenty of milk, cream, cocoa, tea, and coffee (covering the holy trinity of hot beverages) on hand, and thus we can hunker down and enjoy the view. With me and the boys down with colds, visiting…
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Vincent’s beautiful mind
Vincent is still telling his Syllabo stories, but they’ve taken on a darker cast: expanding the family even further — “Syllabo has another mother and father, and two sisters…” — he stopped short…”but actually she only has one sister now. The other one died.” Oh. Let’s not explore that. He fiercely resisted bedtime the other…
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Telling tales
For 48 hours, from dinner time on Thursday until Saturday night, Vincent was enthralled by “Syllabo.” His “sister.” He began talking about her and the island where she lived and barely stopped for anything. He appeared by the bathtub while I was taking a shower to tell me more (“Mommy, did you know that Syllabo…
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Saturdays are the golden brown…
…of the pancakes I made the boys this morning, of Vincent’s shorn hair cascading to the floor as I gave him a trim, and the Indian pudding cooking in its water bath in the oven. The recipe I’m using is from an ancient edition of Fannie Farmer — who knew there were so many variations!…
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Summer drives
I spent a long weekend at my mum’s with the boys, where they played with their cousins and created an aura of general pandemonium. Driving home last night the two and a half hours was actually wonderful: the day had been beautiful, weather-wise, breezy and dry, and as we drove down the highway towards the…
Marie Gauthier 