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The Fabric of our Lives

I had a run in my stockings 25 minutes before the show on Saturday

I ran down the elevator, up the escalator frantically scanning The Bay for the section with nylons.

I scooted around the line asking a sales associate, Filomena, (who wasn’t helping anyone) for help.

She said she would be with me in a moment so I ping ponged past underwear, past socks, finally finding the rectangular display box of hosiery.

I flipped through support tops, nudes, browns, Spanx…

I never wear nylons, my mother wore them and I wasn’t sure if neutral was the best choice with these brown boots, this hippy-orange-brown-blue-flower-power dress…

“Are nylons still in?” I wanted to ask.

Finally I hear a mother’s voice that was not my mother’s and Filomena calls “Oh, there you are Dear.”

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Passage Through Grief

 
Over and over, I feel so blessed to get to write with “The Lovelies”;  the group of women that gather at our dining room table to laugh, write, drink tea, pass tissues and share stories of love, travel, adventure, childhood, loss and life.  Somehow it all gets validated as we write.  Somehow it all gets put into perspective.  Somehow it all feels manageable in the sharing.
 
At the beginning of this writing session we wrote our ‘snapshots of 2015’ (the kaleidoscope of memories from the year we have just left behind)  For me, having lost my mom at the end of 2014, it was a year of passage.  These are the words that came out from that evening of writing together.
 
PASSAGE THROUGH GRIEF by Nathalie Vachon
 
This year.  Passage through grief.
May.  Vallée Junction. 
I turned my head to the sky, held back tears, followed the clouds, hoping my mother would hear.
Words of goodbye.
Images of butterflies.  Her time here done.  Struggle over.
“Kiss me mother, kiss your darlings, lay your head upon my breast, throw your loving arms around me, I am weary. Let me rest”
Eyes to the sky to keep singing. 
Can’t look at Uncle Michel or Aunt Celine.  Can’t allow myself to see the tears rolling down my baby brothers face, my cousins red eyes.
 
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Hope for Grise Fjord

PROMPT:  For this writing, I gave a list of prompts that had to do with returning to the Earth and I believe it was the word hope that stuck with Julie to create this moving and powerful piece about her recent travels to Nunavut.

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Hope for Grise Fjord – by Julie Bean

It was over sixty years ago when the government determined greater human presence was required in the North.  Motivation driven by claims for sovereign territory, and territory meant a resident community.  In their wisdom, one Inuit was the same as another.  An Inuk knew how to hunt,  build shelter, make warm clothes to protect against the elements and, as a result, the government relocated many from northern Quebec to Grise Fjord in the High Arctic.  A savage place; a harsh land, shrouded with mist swirling over glaciers, and minimal sun to bring light beyond a few hours each day.  Hunting over this landscape was unknown, mammals were different, birds were less, the sea roiling and angry.

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Go On

photo copyMagazine captions, titles etc can be great prompts for writing.  At our last class before summer I put out a random bunch of pictures, titles, captions, words from magazines.

These words inspired the writing below: a little messy, expect more, stories, go on, take what you… of poetry, stories scoundrels, trailblazers and conspires to assist you.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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Home, Love, Belong: the emotional journey behind a painting

A painting is most definitely a journey… some paintings happen easily without much struggle, others… not so much.  I recently posted some new paintings on my Facebook Nathalie Vachon – Artist page (as works in progress from Flora Bowley’s Bloom True e-course so people could see the many layered steps involved).  Here is a peak into the emotional journey that often accompanies each step:

HOME, LOVE, BELONG

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