I’m paid to have a way with words. But as the anniversary of a truly terrible day edges closer and closer, syllables and vowels and nouns and verbs aren’t coming easily. It’s a lovely, sunny day in Toronto. I am surrounded by my little green garden, which is spiked with deep pink impatiens, hanging ivy and colourful coleus. I should be sitting in my big, blue, wooden chair with my feet up after finishing a couple of travel writing assignments. But I keep thinking about Hawaii. About Maui. About Lahaina. It was a year ago tomorrow that the world came Read more
