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Heather MacDonald - Canada


All That We Have


In cancer's last stages, my mother sat in her wheelchair outside a trendy bakery while my father was inside buying bread. It was a mild, sunny Saturday in October and their neighbourhood was bustling with shoppers. A little overdressed, Mom took off her hat and placed it, open-end up, in her lap. Chemo treatments had left her mostly without hair, making her look even more tiny and vulnerable. As she waited patiently for my father, a passer-by glanced briefly down at her and dropped a coin into her hat.

autumn sun
she lifts her face and smiles
last rays


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