On Friday, I had the honour of spending the afternoon at the Riverside Bookshelf in Paris, Ontario, where I got to hang with my pal Alison Fishburn and read Why Are You So Quiet? to a parade of adorable kiddos. I could have sat in that green armchair all day, perched there like a pink-haired Santa Claus, reading stories upon request. After, Alison let me try on her shoes. Then she took my partner and I out for burritos and introduced us to a spectacularly talented paper dragon artist. A+ day, all in all. Perfectly perfect.

I've decided to include an audio letter to go along with my "Should I Do Whatever or Nah?" series of Instagram posts. The rule of this challenge is I'm not allowed to pause or stop recording or fix anything - it's just going to go online as is. So that's what we're doing. I just want to explain this in my voice.

This iteration is called "Should I Keep Revising This or Not?" If you've seen it, essentially the flowchart goes something like: Hey, you should probably read it out loud. If you haven't revised it yet at all, you should probably revise it. You should probably put it away for a little while.

I'd never seen this photo before: my grandmother in a folding chair, holding my mother and aunt on a sunny day in the 1960s. The image is slightly faded, tinted with that particular green cast of old photographs, but the moment it captures feels immediate.

My grandmother passed away last week, and as my family sorts through photographs and memories, I've been thinking a lot about what we keep, what gets lost, and how our imaginations work to fill the spaces in between. Sometimes I think that's what poetry is - an attempt to capture not just what happened, but what it felt like to be there, how it shaped us, how it lives in us still.