I wonder things. I wonder why the singular version of the word ‘movies’ isn’t spelled m-o-v-y. I wonder if ‘implicative’ is a real word, or if I just made it up. I wonder if the effort I go to in life will be remembered after I’m gone. Or even only in a month, or a week.
I wonder if the kids I see around the city will grow up to be icons of one sort or another. I wonder if the little boy I saw at the bus stop reading the giant book about frogs will grow up to be a scientist, or a comedian. Will he grow up to be a radio personality, or study abroad and become a dignitary of some kind?
I wonder if anyone ever thought that about me… for all the times I rode the subway as a kid, for all the new schools over all those years. Even now… I wonder if anyone wonders what I’ll make of myself.
Nicole and I got the apartment we wanted, this gorgeous little place in the Old South end of the city, just outside the downtown core area where I work, and some 5-10 minutes drive from the University of Western Ontario. We’ve now signed the lease and are making plans to move in.
The current (or, now-former) tenant has now moved out, and we’re taking the apartment (hardwood floors are owesome) as is – purple walls in the living room and hallway. I’m actually pretty interested in seeing my daughter’s reaction to the apartment the first time she sees it.