Tag Archives: Nicole Lobry de Bruyn

Tennis lessons

While school age children play tennis the mothers and the small children, too young for instruction, mill around outside the courts under the pergola. They have been brought from day care or preschool from where they have been cooped up. … Continue reading

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Hawaii – Part 3

At night a gecko barks. Another thunder storm. All night. Heavy rain. We wake up and worry about our helicopter flight booked for later in the day. We remember to wish Jasper a happy birthday. Nine. There are lots of … Continue reading

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What to do while waiting?

A girl of eight or nine years old, wearing a lilac polyester tracksuit, skips in tight circles on a beige brick paved driveway. The house is a house behind a house and weeds push their way through the cracks of … Continue reading

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Hawaii – Part 2

The beach house at Hanalei is serviceable. It is one street back from the bay and an easy walk to town. The bathroom is smaller than we expected and, because of the positioning of a vanity, I will not be able … Continue reading

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Illness

Yesterday was a lost day. Before bed we watched “28 weeks”, a movie set in London when it is attacked by a zombie virus. In the movie the virulent infection turns the humans into raging, attacking maniacs whose faces are … Continue reading

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Hawaii – Part 1

With my father on morphine we leave for Hawaii. I know it looks bad. I know he is dying and, hence, I will not be there when it happens, but I choose to go all the same. I have many … Continue reading

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Conference Hotel

I wait for the lift. Already sensing it is one of those hotels where lifts move as if in slow motion. You hear it reaching the floor, shuddering in its shaft. You wait for it to stop completely before it … Continue reading

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Finally…

Finally he is gone. No more gauntness to contend with. No more gripping claws. The sigh is heavy, full of relief – for him and, oh yes, for myself. I take pleasure in buying bones for the dog. I love … Continue reading

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Grace on the Park

Twenty thousand people on a park, jostling and moving together, swaying and gyrating to music is proof of the sociability of the human species. I am less sociable than most and sometimes a crowd like this is too much. But … Continue reading

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This Knife Ain’t Sharp Enough

My Dad is back in the hospital. His remaining penis is like a bloated poorly-cooked pork sausage. I am reminded of a neighbour beyond the pickets whose favourite children’s party game was called pork sausage. The children would be in … Continue reading

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