This post marks the one-year anniversary for this website. Instead of writing a new story, I thought it would be interesting to reflect back on the last year of Saturday Morning Stories.
I’ve written 50 stories over the past year (I took one week off and this week would have been 52). I’ve enjoyed writing them, but there are certainly stories that stick out more than others in my mind.
So, here is a list of my top five stories from the last year (in alphabetical order) and why I enjoyed the story so much.
If you haven’t read any the stories on this list, I encourage you to do so as a starting point for catching up. And, if you have already read some or all of them, I encourage you to re-read them. I’m sure you’ll discover a new detail you missed the first time.
It was an early spring morning. The sun had risen two hours earlier. The birds were chirping in the 10-foot conifer outside our bedroom window. And the sky was crystal clear over our lazy crescent in our western Canadian Prairie suburb.
I was peacefully lying awake in bed, enjoying its body-hugging comfort early that morning. Our son was playing video games in the basement family room while our daughter was at the kitchen table creating yet another pencil drawing to add to my growing collection of “daughter art.”
It never stood a chance.
We recently renovated our kitchen and the last piece was the kitchen table.
The old kitchen table was a giant, dark brown behemoth that served us well.
Many family meals were enjoyed there. Christmas breakfasts, Easter dinners, and birthday cakes came and went.
My nose is still recovering from the overwhelming stench.
But, in a twist befitting Shakespeare, there’s more to this recent story about my nose-wrenching experience.
You see, the tragedy that befell my nostrils that day could have been averted. Easily.
Except, I only learned this last week.
On a sunny and calm day in late 2015, my artist wife told me she was applying to a new-to-us art show. It was called Night of Artists.
I couldn’t have been any more enthusiastic and supportive as I continued to scroll through the news feed on my iPhone while I sat docile on our living room couch.
“Great,” I said. “One single night makes it easy for us.”
Art shows usually run across an entire weekend. So, to learn it was only one night meant I wouldn’t be left as a single parent with our kids like I would for the other art shows on her annual business calendar.
“You should write a story about me, daddy,” our confident and creative daughter told me shortly after I launched this series.
She’s a regular reader of Saturday Morning Stories and gets a kick out of reading about her parents. Her favourite story so far is The Kandinsky Curriculum. I’ll let you guess why.
She’s eight years old and enjoying the glory that comes with being in Grade 2 — still young enough that she’s not jaded about having to go to school every day but old enough to give her parents enough daily sass and eye rolls to fill an Olympic-sized swimming pool.
She’s also a chip off the ol’ block.