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I Dreamt About You Last Night

February 25th, 2018 No comments

I woke up this morning from a dream of my daughter’s face swirling in my head. God, her face was beautiful and cute all at the same time. In my dream we somewhere in a San Diego community in a gravelly parking lot and she was playing and or fiddling with her stroller. I think she was 2 or 3 at the time. With some scorn I said “Justine, stop fiddling with your stroller”. I took the stroller away from her, folded it up and put it in the back of our SUV. I then went over to her and she asked “Daddy, why are you mad?” I asked back in response “Justine, are you being bad?” We then proceeded to laugh hysterically together as I gazed into her eyes and we held each other.

I awoke from the dream this morning with a feeling of happiness that I can’t describe.

But some days, still, I can’t escape the feeling and reality that she is gone and not really a part of my life anymore. Sure, I’ll see her in a month if everything goes smoothly but it doesn’t change the finality (if that is the right word here).

Sometimes, though, there is a feeling of relief that washes over me that she is with her mother in California. They have a good life there and maybe that is all that really matters. I still worry though; even after 5 and 1/2 years. She is my daughter.

It’d be great to hear from you,

Matthew R. Polkinghorne
289-208-2241

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8585 Via Mallorca

February 11th, 2018 No comments

I once lived a perfect life. I lived at 8585 Via Mallorca in La Jolla, California. Every morning I’d wake up and my young daughter would be there beside my bed jumping up and down excitedly ready to take on the day. I’d rise out of bed, smile at her, pick her up and take her to the change table where I’d change her either wet or poopy diaper.

As I changed her the sun would shine in on through the window brilliantly and I would ask myself “Can life get any better”? In my head I would reply “No, it can’t and we are lucky”. We’d make our way into the living room and flick on the TV for a dose of cartoons. Of course I’d make her breakfast and we would sit there together in the enjoyment of the TV. After about an hour or so we would move on to activities like painting on a canvas or practice the sounding out of vowels and consonants into words. Then without fail we would go out for the day in the car to some place; a place where we could pass the time.

Now I am back in Canada and my daughter remains in California. The winters here are cold and there is a lot of work to do. Sometimes my blood boils and my internal temperature fluctuates. I feel the anger and tightness fester in my stomach as I try and force tears. My existential condition just continues to get worse.

What I would give to go back to those days. Do I dare live in the past? Sometimes I do because I can’t avoid the thought that my present and my future blow.

It’d be great to hear from you,

Matthew R. Polkinghorne
289-208-2241

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