New Year’s 1989

I had enjoyed meeting her friends in Kingston, until she told me how the father had once been jailed when their croupy baby had become too much to bear. I had enjoyed New Year’s Eve in Ottawa catching up with Peter, until she told me of the pass he’d made under the table during the salmon mousse. I’d even enjoyed the drizzle on Parliament Hill and shouting bonne année at midnight, until later that night when it had all come back on me, alone in the bathroom, then on the long drive home, nursing Peptol Bismol straight from the bottle.

Photo from Simply Recipes.