Category: Chronicling the Days

Chronicling the Days – Rachel McCrum

In April 2020, we invited writers in Quebec to submit a story of a single day during the strange, uneasy time of coronavirus and pandemic, of social distancing and self isolation, of lockdown and quarantine.

We’re thrilled to announce that these stories have been gathered in Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic (Guernica Press). To learn more and buy the book, please visit https://www.guernicaeditions.com/title/9781771836579.

Please also join us on the QWF FB Community page, and let the authors know if their words resonated.

This is the final piece in the series, written by Rachel McCrum on Monday, May 25.

Photo: Mont Royal belvedere – April 2020.

I’m woken at 530 a.m. by our petit pirate of a cat, who takes it upon herself to come and bat a grey paw in my face. She doesn’t want fed or out, particularly. Just a sign of life. She knows better than to touch J, my partner, sleeping peacefully beside me. His ability to flick a hip – and send her flying off the bed – without waking up should be patented.

To read the rest of the story, please support our community and check out Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic

May 26, 2020
Chronicling the Days – Marian Rebeiro

In April 2020, we invited writers in Quebec to submit a story of a single day during the strange, uneasy time of coronavirus and pandemic, of social distancing and self isolation, of lockdown and quarantine.

We’re thrilled to announce that these stories have been gathered in Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic (Guernica Press). To learn more and buy the book, please visit https://www.guernicaeditions.com/title/9781771836579.

Please also join us on the QWF FB Community page, and let the authors know if their words resonated.

This piece is one of our final two pieces, written by Marian Rebeiro in May 2020.

Image: Bruce Springsteen (Getty Images)

The Perils and Parallels of Listening to Bruce Springsteen’s “Human Touch” in the Time of Pandemic

It might sound a bit crazy to some, but I love a commute. A passive commute, mind you, where I can sit down on the bus or metro, and “check out” for a half hour, listen to music, read a book, or people watch. I love people watching. My morning commute gives me a moment to shift gears, and “get in the zone” (whatever “zone” I need to be in that day) after rushing to get myself ready and out of the house. It’s a moment of stillness, even though I’m still technically moving as I get from point A to point B, and I love it. It’s mine.

Not so during a pandemic lockdown.

To read the rest of the story, please support our community and check out Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic.

May 26, 2020
Chronicling the Days – Carolyne van der Meer

In April 2020, we invited writers in Quebec to submit a story of a single day during the strange, uneasy time of coronavirus and pandemic, of social distancing and self isolation, of lockdown and quarantine.

We’re thrilled to announce that these stories have been gathered in Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic (Guernica Press). To learn more and buy the book, please visit https://www.guernicaeditions.com/title/9781771836579.

Please also join us on the QWF FB Community page, and let the authors know if their words resonated.

This piece is by Carolyne van der Meer, writing in April 2020.

Image: Creative Commons

Today’s tea remedy for coronavirus

I’m standing at the window. I’m on the eleventh floor of a high-rise. The world seems small. And when I look out, there’s almost nothing going on. A few cars on the road, crawling along. It’s like a Sunday in the 1970s. Except it’s not—because this is every day. Since the virus arrived, it’s like the world has taken an anesthetic, and I can’t help but wonder when—and how—it will wake up.

To read the rest of the story, please support our community and check out Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic

May 24, 2020
Chronicling the Days – Danielle Wong

In April 2020, we invited writers in Quebec to submit a story of a single day during the strange, uneasy time of coronavirus and pandemic, of social distancing and self isolation, of lockdown and quarantine.

We’re thrilled to announce that these stories have been gathered in Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic (Guernica Press). To learn more and buy the book, please visit https://www.guernicaeditions.com/title/9781771836579.

Please also join us on the QWF FB Community page, and let the authors know if their words resonated.

This piece is by Danielle Wong, writing on Thursday, April 23, 2020.

Image: Danielle Wong

My daughter asks me to stay beside her. At first, the reason is homework. I get up to leave when she is done. She is not willing to let me go. She needs company to colour. I stay and colour with her while we listen to music. Some weeks it is “Lean on Me”, other times “You Lift Me Up”, or “Amazing Grace”. She plays the song of the week over and over, repetition the one thing she understands completely.

To read the rest of the story, please support our community and check out Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic

May 24, 2020
Chronicling the Days – Shelley Tepperman

In April 2020, we invited writers in Quebec to submit a story of a single day during the strange, uneasy time of coronavirus and pandemic, of social distancing and self isolation, of lockdown and quarantine.

We’re thrilled to announce that these stories have been gathered in Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic (Guernica Press). To learn more and buy the book, please visit https://www.guernicaeditions.com/title/9781771836579.

Please also join us on the QWF FB Community page, and let the authors know if their words resonated.

This piece is by Shelley Tepperman, writing on April 29, 2020.

Image: Shelley Tepperman

#covidream

My apartment is in utter disarray. It looks tornado-blown: clothes, mingled dirty and clean, everywhere. It’s time to head to my (imaginary) office job. I need to pee, to get dressed, but I can’t find a bra can’t find my underwear can’t find my shoes. Didn’t I fold a stack of underwear yesterday?

My father’s voice reverberates: “It looks like a pigsty in here.”

To read the rest of the story, please support our community and check out Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic

May 24, 2020
Chronicling the Days – Jill Sapphire-Goldberg

In April 2020, we invited writers in Quebec to submit a story of a single day during the strange, uneasy time of coronavirus and pandemic, of social distancing and self isolation, of lockdown and quarantine.

We’re thrilled to announce that these stories have been gathered in Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic (Guernica Press). To learn more and buy the book, please visit https://www.guernicaeditions.com/title/9781771836579.

Please also join us on the QWF FB Community page, and let the authors know if their words resonated.

This piece is by Jill Sapphire-Goldberg, writing on Saturday, April 25, 2020.

Photo: Jill Sapphire-Goldberg

I hear the songbird in the predawn. I slept, as I usually do, with my window open. I believe the cold helps me sleep more deeply, and I really need to sleep better. I sleep a little more, simply because I can. There is a carless silence that is thick, even though I live right in town. I’m used to it now. When I finally awaken, sun shining into my room, I actually get out of bed. However, I’m aware of the word for what I’m feeling. Depression. I’m even getting accustomed to cycles through the week.

To read the rest of the story, please support our community and check out Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic

May 23, 2020
Chronicling the Days – Rebecca Morris

In April 2020, we invited writers in Quebec to submit a story of a single day during the strange, uneasy time of coronavirus and pandemic, of social distancing and self isolation, of lockdown and quarantine.

We’re thrilled to announce that these stories have been gathered in Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic (Guernica Press). To learn more and buy the book, please visit https://www.guernicaeditions.com/title/9781771836579.

Please also join us on the QWF FB Community page, and let the authors know if their words resonated.

This piece is by Rebecca Morris, writing on Tuesday, April 28, 2020.

Photo: Rebecca Morris

The New Normal

It’s been six weeks since the schools shut down, six weeks since my husband started working from home. I used to write during the day, when the house was empty and quiet. Now the house is never empty and it’s only quiet in the early mornings, while my teenage children are still asleep.

To read the rest of the story, please support our community and check out Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic

May 23, 2020
Chronicling the Days – Francesca M. LoDico

In April 2020, we invited writers in Quebec to submit a story of a single day during the strange, uneasy time of coronavirus and pandemic, of social distancing and self isolation, of lockdown and quarantine.

We’re thrilled to announce that these stories have been gathered in Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic (Guernica Press). To learn more and buy the book, please visit https://www.guernicaeditions.com/title/9781771836579.

Please also join us on the QWF FB Community page, and let the authors know if their words resonated.

This piece is by Francesca M. LoDico, writing on April 26, 2020.

Image: Creative Commons

“I got my ducks,” says Lissa on the phone. “I’m their momma.”

Lissa used to live next door with Ginger, her wire haired dachshund. For five years we shared the neighbourly camaraderie of single creatives bound by solitude: our Before version of together alone.

To read the rest of the story, please support our community and check out Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic.

May 22, 2020
Chronicling the Days – Doru Lupeanu

In April 2020, we invited writers in Quebec to submit a story of a single day during the strange, uneasy time of coronavirus and pandemic, of social distancing and self isolation, of lockdown and quarantine.

We’re thrilled to announce that these stories have been gathered in Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic (Guernica Press). To learn more and buy the book, please visit https://www.guernicaeditions.com/title/9781771836579.

Please also join us on the QWF FB Community page, and let the authors know if their words resonated.

This piece is by Doru Lupeanu, writing in April 2020.

Image: Doru Lupeanu

My father died.

I wish I were capable of using metaphors and making this statement sound more like a gut-wrenching feeling, closer to what I feel inside than a three-word phrase that seems to beg for attention and compassion. Yet, I can’t push myself passed the three words.

To read the rest of the story, please support our community and check out Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic

May 22, 2020
Chronicling the Days – Anne Lewis

In April 2020, we invited writers in Quebec to submit a story of a single day during the strange, uneasy time of coronavirus and pandemic, of social distancing and self isolation, of lockdown and quarantine.

We’re thrilled to announce that these stories have been gathered in Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic (Guernica Press). To learn more and buy the book, please visit https://www.guernicaeditions.com/title/9781771836579.

Please also join us on the QWF FB Community page, and let the authors know if their words resonated.

This piece is by Anne Lewis, writing on April 22, 2020.

Photo: Creative Commons

Answer Me This

Well, and so, I have said it all, is it not enough? All the sharp words blunted, were they not enough? And the idle engine chuckling, was it not sufficient? And the frozen badlands kicking me in the tucked chin, were they not allowed to shut me up? Nope.

To read the rest of the story, please support our community and check out Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic

May 21, 2020