“My Dad says there’s no such thing as Santa and that you just pretend to be him on the phone…”
Call me gobsmacked… speechless.

“How did it get so late so soon?” Dr. Seuss

Pandemic Time.
“The pandemic has impacted our perception of time,” I tell Sue.
“I know,” she replies as we stare at the clock in my oncologist’s office.
The second hand remains frozen for 5 seconds and then flies ahead.
“That’s exactly how time feels during the pandemic!” Sue exclaims.

What with pandemic controls in place – it isn’t always possible – but, since my blood cancer diagnosis, Sue accompanies me on appointments.
She is with me at the moment of truth with my haematologist/oncologist – a no-nonsense and supremely competent Big C Warrior. I’m pretty impressed with my doctor - and she wins over Sue’s heart the first time she drops an f-bomb.
The Big C Warrior describes what I’ve embarked upon as “a journey.”

When they were youngsters, it was simple and straightforward – the same number of gifts regardless of investment. As presents were unwrapped, oldest boy Simon (not the math type), would sit in the corner keeping count on a notepad. These were easy calculations - each unwrap counted equally - and for the most part he was able to keep up.

The curling season is yet another victim of the pandemic - can 2020 get much worse?
“We should get back to curling,” says Sue. “Much better to get out of the house, get a little exercise and socialize a bit than staying locked inside on Friday evenings all winter.”
Reading our local news site, however, I sadly pop her balloon.

My father-in-law’s fight against cancer is my inspiration

“Life, we learn too late, is in the living, in the tissue of every day and hour.” Stephen Leacock

We’re sharing Thanksgiving dinner with Sue’s parents, Jim and Carol, who live nearby. We’re all part of a small 5-person pandemic bubble along with youngest son Louis.

We start most days with our walk to the farm accompanied by Ruby the basket case dog. There’s a chill in the air this morning - so while the grass remains green we’re dressed in layered autumn wear.
A highlight is crossing paths with Rebecca and her 3 young children – they are the very definition of adorable – so this day is off to a good start.

The oldest boy, Simon, called the other morning from his home in Alberta. He’s a newly minted primary school teacher and from his enthusiasm on the call I reckon he’s making a difference in the lives of his students…
I shouldn’t be surprised - he showed promise for this vocation from a young age.
It was “bring your parents to school day.”

A cold and rainy autumn day is the absolute best time to hunker down, forget our troubles and watch a classic movie… it was either that or news coverage of second pandemic waves and US election campaigns…

20 simple actions that can accidentally contribute to happiness
We’re having our morning coffee in the office.
“2020 has propelled us into a bizarre state where anxiety is ramped up and time perception is messed up.”
Sue concurs. “All week I’ve been 24 hours behind. I woke up today convinced it was Monday and it’s only Sunday morning!”
So, I start thinking… Our lives have indeed been turned upside down – and the need for simple anchors that provide happiness or a little meaning has never been greater.

The old-timer’s hockey season will soon start and every hope is justified, every dream attainable, every beer sublime

I got the call for Sunday hockey… along with the lowdown on the mechanisms designed to keep us safe.

We’ve now got something called cohorts – but no overlaps with other timeslots and absolutely no showers.

With the youngest boy having moved back in, we’ve had some straight talk about expectations and mutual respect - when you’re done prepping your snack, be sure to leave the kitchen the way you found it

Yet another pandemic impact: Louis, the youngest son, has moved back home. He left his life in the big city (Montreal) to join us in the country.

Thus far it’s been a pretty seamless transition. The once brooding teenager has grown into a helpful (charming?) adult who spontaneously fetches a drink and clears away dirty dishes – who’d a thunk it?

“This represents quite a change for you. How are you finding life up here? In this isolation?” Sue asks him.

“I’m not bored of it yet,” Louis replies with an urban smirk. “In fact, this is an ideal setting for Shinrin-yoku,” he adds sipping from his matcha latte while cutting the crusts from his avocado toast.

It’s always important to read the fine print - especially dress code descriptions on event tickets.

What purpose does memory serve if you can’t hold a grudge?

“Then she gets you on her wavelength, And she let’s the river answer that you’ve always been her lover.”

Leonard Cohen, Suzanne (I’m the Leonard Cohen fan – Sue, not so much.)

These days more so than ever - we thirst for connection. The distances that have been forced upon us by the virus have taken a psychic toll.

My recent discovery is that Sue overcomes these gaps by being linked to a cryptic collective unconscious and I’m left searching for words…

Like the rest of you, the pandemic has kept Sue and me hunkered down at home – and as a result we’re watching more television than ever. After exhausting the Netflix library we stared at each other in bewilderment.

Sue is one of those rare and special people who can see through the fog and the clutter. She has the power to perceive each and every creature - not just in its current state - but at the pinnacle of its potential.
Sue takes a stance of active engagement and is determined to bring out the best. I chalk it up to love – you simply can’t pay attention to all the details if you’re ambivalent…

The pandemic has put me before a moment of truth in the realm of household handiness.
My honey-do list is spiking faster than the infection rate in Florida – and my go-to excuses for avoiding handyman projects have all but evaporated.
It’s not like I’m out of town or off to a meeting. And I can’t bring myself to fake another dreaded Zoom call. We’re home - basically all the time - and the list just keeps getting longer...
What makes it harder (on my ego, at least) is that I can sense Sue’s disappointment.

Walking through Tudhope Park this week, home of the Mariposa Folk Festival, was a surreal experience for Sue and me.

The festival, cancelled due to Covid, should have celebrated its 60th anniversary and been full of magical moments.