I’m sitting in a Starbucks on Queen Street. Earlier today I buried my son.
Two 10 year old girls just sat down beside me with grande sized pink foamy drinks topped with whipped cream, and they are now taking pictures of each other with their cell phones.
Lauren is getting her hair cut, and I can’t wait in the salon because our stylist doesn’t know that our baby died and I can’t deal with the disappointed look on his face when he finds out.
Ah! The 10 year olds are smart. They brought their own Timbits.
A baby’s ashes fit inside an impossibly small container.
One of the girls has a plastic purse in the shape of a butterfly and I find this strangely riveting.
Tonight Yom Kippur will start. What am I atoning for?