Standing in line at our local Safeway checkout, I observed the most beautiful woman. She must have been sixty, yet age had not withered her. Glancing away so as not to seem obvious, I turned my head back towards her—and became paralysed with shock. It was Laura, my...

Drat! Our guests from out of town were arriving today. I wouldn’t be able to attend to my favourite pastime. Thursdays were always my locked away times—dedicated to drafting a book chapter to send to my editor. We would then meet face-to-face the following Tuesday to...

“Where are we?” I asked in bewilderment. “Antequera,” replied Laura. “It’s a town, an hour and a half from where we’re going. They’re building a high-speed rail line. Unfortunately, for the time being, it stops here. We have to change to a local rail line to Granada....

“Andrea, where are your Turkish—sorry, Greek delights?” I asked the owner of The Romantic Grocery and Gift Emporium. Since the partition more than thirty years ago, all references to Turkey were frowned upon in this part of Greek Cyprus. “Which ones?” There were...

Gnawing hunger woke me up. I opened my balcony to the Mediterranean. Although evening had crept in , its cooler air hadn’t. I skipped down the marble stairs to the lobby. A waif-like concierge looked up at me, her high heels and ramrod back not quite giving her the...

Recently, I was interviewed for a programme called “True Calgarian”. I examined my brown skin while listening to my incorrigible British accent, forty years on. “Truly Calgarian? Me?” Since I was taken from Africa at the age of five—my mum obtaining a divorce and...

"Pops, why aren’t the shops open? It’s only 4 p.m.," Christopher wondered. As we passed through Doha Airport, the terminal seemed like a town in a Western movie before a gunfight. No one walked the corridors, the regular bustle replaced by an eerie silence. The shops...

Laura and I visited Dad daily. For the first few weeks, every day we visited, his clothes were piled high on his bed. His winter coat crowned the mound of clothes. We were told that when Dad woke up, the first thing he did was get ready to leave. “Boys? Boys?” Dad...

Who was this man? He was unshaven, with no tie, his shirt collar open and missing buttons. He seemed to have slept in his clothes. His suit was wrinkled and creased. He had the eyes of a hunted animal. This wasn’t Dad… was it? Dad had always worn a suit and tie. He...

December 8th was Dad’s eighty-second birthday. It was also his elder grandson’s seventeenth. Laura cooked steak—Dad’s favorite. He fussed over his birthday cake and insisted on a dozen photos. Dad had mounted old pictures of Alex and framed them with some poetry from...