Photo credit: Dorian Mongel on Unsplash Written by Chavon Barry There’s a cobweb on the light above me. I should grab the broom and brush it off. Later. Refocus. The boxes behind my chair need to be built and packed. We’re moving to a new house, a new rental just down the road.
There’s so much to do. I swallow the lump in my throat and stay right here because the blank page scares me too. I worry there’ll always be something more important than putting words on paper. Because really most things are more important. “Oh the places you will go,” Dr. Seuss promises. If only I could start… *** When I was fifteen, I travelled by cargo ship to Long Beach, California. The captain invited my dad, a paper mill shipyard supervisor, and his wife and four kids to take the one-way trip on the Thorseggen. “I’m going to Disneyland by barge!” I told my teachers and friends. Machinery and the crew lifted our ‘97 Dodge Caravan onto the deck and the ship’s first mate showed us the captain’s quarters, our new living space. On the days to follow we turned green with seasickness but still dressed up for three-course meals and ran the narrow corridors, steel staircases, and glistening-white sundecks. It wasn’t quite the Disney cruise my best friend went on the year before but it was mine and I loved it. Yesterday, I started to sort through the storage space beside the hot water tank and found my old travel journal covered in dirt. I brushed it off and read.
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Chavon BarryChavon is a new writer from Victoria, British Columbia. She wrestles with simple answers and is learning to listen, to be still with God. Archives
April 2022
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