Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Infiltrate

She had not become accustomed to the twilight cold. Not yet. Fall here infiltrates the pores and the soul, not like the clime she'd just landed from. Her bare feet hesitate at the soggy grass, and without a word, he comes to her side, bends down, and picks her up. Prince charming magnificent. This moment is the memory of a thing she dreamed of in the midst of the rage and fury and misery of a past she'd sooner forget. She is unsure whether or not she is dreaming now.

He carries her with ease across the lawn. She is the air he breathes. He does not need anything more. Not now, anyway. When they are inside the cottage, he dips her down on the sofa like a precious thing, and sets her on top of him.

They are quiet for some time. His fingers trace her hairline and memorize it. Her brow-bone, her little jaw.

Yes. It is all he needs. She eases into him.

He is all sinew, bone and strength. He holds her like she will break, there, on top of him, and for the world he would not risk that. There is so much power in that chest, a calm and wonder. He is lean, he is man, he is sure of himself. And yet he shakes.

"Can I kiss you?"

The question is shy, hovering through the cottage and past the heat of their bodies.

She smiles as though she never has before. Her heart is a stirring bird, midwinter, plumage out and trilling. She winds her fingers into his dark curls.

"Yes."

Yes. It is enough.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

Ever onward


My delicious reading chair

So.

Hello blog. Gee, I haven't touched you in so long. How have you been? How's the family?

Listen. Things have changed. Lots of things.

First of all, I am an intern no longer. I work for ChiZine on a pretty routine basis, on basically everything from editorial, publicity, acquisitions, design, and proof reading. I love my bosses, I love our authors, and I love our books. Still.

Toronto has been kind to me. I graduated from my Creative Book Publishing program with Honours a couple of weeks ago. Russel Peters was our keynote speaker. Of course.

I still see my friends on a fairly regular basis. They are all that keep me grounded in this whirlwind city.

And as for life in general -

Life is now a one bedroom apartment in Forest Hill at Bathurst and Eglinton. It is beautiful, it is full of light. . . but I am here by myself. Plans changed. Hearts changed. And though difficult at first, it was for the best. And time moves us ever on. It is strange for sure; I have never lived alone! But I have an antique radio to keep me company, and the comfiest bed there ever was. And I have love in all the right places. The future seems so bright.

And that little book I mentioned I had written so very long ago?

I just received my final contract and offer for the publication of it with ECW press. I am still in humbled shock. More to come from this fumbling author at a later date.

Stumble, trip, fall, get back up again. I work 12 hour days and sleep little, but I am doing what I love, and working toward everything I could have hoped for, and it can't get any better than that.

So where's my snow?

Winnipeg on December 20 : ) Christmas here I come! 17 days.