When Chris and I
were young girls
we spent several weekends
in the home of my father’s friend
Mr. Barij.
We slept in
a stuffy,
dormer-windowed room.
We ate remarkable
tiered pastry and
strange, wonderful
cabbage rolls.
We breathed a
fragrant, foreign world.
We took pleasure in the
sounds of language
because we could not
understand it.
We painted eggs all day.
***
Joan MacIntosh lives in St. John’s, NL, but grew up in the Toronto area. Her father
worked at Stelco and was befriended by Ukrainian immigrants, and her family was
enriched by that friendship. Joan has written prose and poetry most of her
adult life and is enjoying taking Brian’s writing courses.
“Easter with the Ukrainians” was previously published in TickleAce.
See Brian Henry’s
upcoming weekly writing classes, one-day workshops, and weekend
retreats here.
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