Swept Up

She did hard things. She faced life full on. She was brave and kind and wasn't afraid of anything. She was a natural leader and good at almost everything she did. She was my golden child.

I have never met anyone so full of life as her. She was a girl who danced in the rain and ran against the wind and basked in sunlight and wasn't afraid to be herself. Remember when kids used to play in the rain? Life takes courage and our children need to be brave. Braver in this brave new world.

I remember her when she was around 10 and we were coming back from dinner at friends. She told me I'd need a GPS for her when she was older. That I should get her an implant to track her. If only I had listened to her. She was wise beyond her years. And knew herself.

And I reflect on these girls. The tragedy of Camp Mystic. Girls playing and dancing in the rain. Only to be swept up in it and not come back out. Life is fleeting and precious and can be taken in a flash. All these girls. Learning to do hard things and take on challenges. Brave girls.

Two sisters found holding each other's hands. I felt her in that. Their love made them braver and stronger together. I would do anything to hold my girl's hand again. As so many mothers of lost girls would too. Lost children. In someone else's hands now. Still brave and beautiful. Dancing the wind.

Cubs

09 July 2025:

That day when we spotted coy-wolf cubs in the fields just west of the Don Valley. She was so excited to see the babies playing amongst the wildflowers and tall grass. Bounding and bouncing right before our eyes.

She would love our puppy Mika. It's been so fun to watch her play by the lake. In the trees and in the long grass. Gazing down out herself in the clear water like a miniature deer. Her tall ears not unlike these wee cubs.

Those were our soccer days. Riding back and forth every Monday to Cherry Beach. She was that watchful kid who thought out her moves. Like a striking predator. Waiting for her moment to pounce rather than running all over the place all of the time.

I encouraged her to run more. To chase the ball like the giant puppy she was. But she also had those cat instincts. Waiting for her moment. I saw this more as she got older. When she kept up with hockey. I understood her game better. And her strategy.

I didn't always understand her motivation. But I always understood her love and passion. And when she wanted to do something, she would put all of her heart into it. And when she didn't, she didn't budge. I raised her to be a critical and analytical thinker and she exuded this naturally. She was an independent creature who knew how to do her own thing, but as a teen needed to run with the pack.

But these kids, these independent kids, running amok in the parks of Toronto with no adults in sight. And those authorities that did show up would treat them with disdain. They did not help or protect our babies, as their motto suggests. While we parents where left to figure all of this wild mess on our own.

And the predators that slipped into their friend groups. Wolves in sheep's clothing, befriending them and charming them and playing the victim for their empathy. Kids preying on kids. And as many of these kids where inclusive they let these souls through.

It is the predator that knowingly and purposely slips fentanyl into the mix, short circuiting the instincts of their prey. My daughter was as smart as they get. But oh so naive to the intentions of others. She thought she could out manoeuvre those working to hook, line and sinker, in a game she was not fit to play. Where she saw others fall, she would help them.

And yet she could not be helped herself. No one was there to keep her from harm that night. Her predator left her alone in the dark rainy December night. For the carrion birds. Those creatures I continue to fight. This time to preserve that innocent child and to bring my beautiful sweet girl some justice.

LLU

Camping Roots

10 July 2025:

This photo sets the tone for the last time we went camping. They just finished six months of online school and we wanted to get them out of town. She was fourteen and lonely. And we took her into deep woods. Those months had been brutal for her. For all of us.

Many folk had talked about how lucky we were to be on the island during Covid. All that nature and freedom. But we were as stuck as any other family. In our own little bubble to protect elderly parents and health concerns of tiny neighbours. There weren't a lot of kids her age on the island. And my job sucked all of the life from me. Working to educate others in a synchronous world were every second counted.

But I trusted in my girl. Because of her foundation. Because she was such a solid kid. Because we communicated. Because she was attached to me and we were so tight. And we had so much love and fun. And this too shall pass.

I came back to the island initially to be close to family while we were going back and forth from Toronto and Tulum. And a house came up for sale. She can make roots was the sentiment from those around me. She can be stable and create a home for her kids in this community. After the breakdown of my relationship and business.

They didn't know that some wildflowers are not meant to have those kinds of roots. Some of us need to pick up and go when we need to pick up and go. And that our roots are ourselves. We will always find our way back home, but she and I are birds of a feather. Itching for more adventure and experience on this planet.

I became a teacher to further deepen those roots of stability. And provide for and ground my family. I love my job. But the irony is not lost on me how those things that I chose for us that were meant to bring us stability and consistency would bring us harm? Purchasing my house brought me harm from other's envy. My work took me away from my kids. And relationships I let let me astray from myself.

I taught her to follow her passion as I had. And to seek out what her gut told her. As I had. Until I hadn't. Until I succumbed to those external pressures. Home. Work. Relationships. What I wouldn't do to have not dug myself in so deep into what we think should be carved out for us. To let myself be guided again by my intuition rather than practicality.

And here I am. Forced back into being myself. And blocking out all of the noise. I am so grateful to have the home I have now. And my community. And my job. And those new and old that have shouldered my weight through this new identity I am becoming.

But what I wouldn't do to be that circus again. That person that others questioned. That person that didn't use to give a shit what others thought until I did and now don't again. That person who was me before I too succumbed to conforming pressures of our external realities. And maybe she would still be with me if I had chosen that path.

But I digress. I will always have those what ifs. They come and go. They are a part of me forever. Just as she is. The guilt washes over me. I let it in and out. Like my breath. My constant companion rooted deep within me. I am my own roots. That I wish I remembered and yet I taught her. That girl who knew herself and would still if she was here. Deeply rooted in all she did.