The only memory I had of my mother — the earliest memory I had at all — was a good one. I was 5 years old and must have run out onto the bus route, because I remember being snatched up from the chaos of the road as a Maxi screamed past, and my mother whisking me away to the pavement, where she held me tightly in her arms and comforted me. In the only memory I have of my mother, she saved my life. At least in that moment, she loved me.
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My father was so proud of his accomplishments that they had their own tower, set to be visible upon entering the house. They were sales awards mostly, with a few semi-professional sports trophies in the mix. My baby picture was tucked beside a plastic gold cup awarded to the 2nd runner up in the 2009 D&G golf tournament. I knew a picture of his own father, Senior, was framed somewhere on the top shelf, too high for me to see. Candy was nowhere.
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PREE is proud to present a series of stellar essays to accompany Andil Gosine’s Nature’s Wild, which opens at the Paul Petro Gallery in Toronto on October 10.
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Lady Dee’s Traditional Bush Bathes, Herbal Remedies and Ancient Luxuries for the Modern Woman was a sprawling chattel house overlooking the East Coast. Nestled at the end of a narrow cul-de-sac lined with smaller houses, its decadence surprised Monica. Lush coconut trees, gardens, and wild bush lined its perimeter, enclosed by a loose fence of sea grape trees with unusually plump blossoms.
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