SWORDFERN
Rooted, I used to think.

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Giving Notice - Friday, Sept. 29, 2017
Accepting Offers - Tuesday, Sept. 26, 2017
Indian/Polish Wedding - Thursday, Sept. 21, 2017
The Builder - Wednesday, Sept. 13, 2017
Rupert Part II - Sunday, Sept. 10, 2017


Wednesday, Dec. 17, 2003 @ 7:47 pm
Mouse Keeper



Parked in the delivery bay of the autopsy lab. The seals tumbled out across the pavement: delivered. Frozen seals, the ending to my extended internship. The seals frozen in my mind until I find time to return and volunteer.

My little man Lute



The Ride

So the city life has returned.

My job is an entirely blue collar affair. Back to keeping a knife on my keys to open sacks of feed. Back to power washing floors. Back to wearing the slate blue scrubs. This time, though, this time it is the worst of all. It's not the pastoral sheep/chickens/quail of the farm. It's not the graceful seals/hawks/beavers of the wildlife centre. It's mice. Transgenic mice with pink little babies that run around in circles because they have the Circling Left gene.

But work is work and work is not what is on my mind. It's Dan. It's how I sat there while he folded his laundry and I wondered how I could nudge this friend-with-benefits into something more. Realizing that it's an impossible transformation. His eyes were open though, he was watching me close mine. That gives me hope.


Roots | Shoots