Tag Archives: Friends

Citizen of Ville Joie – It’s a wild world

01 Wednesday May 2013

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Please read “About this project and the Author” for more information on my project. In this excerpt, Daryl ends his show.

“…As for you, dear listeners and you who joined us for the first time either here at home and around the world, thank you for the kind words you sent to us through different media all night long.

I must admit, I was afraid my story would be heard as a lamentation or come out as an attempt to convince you that my life has been more special or even worse than yours. People sometimes have this propensity to compare stories with others in the hopes that theirs is the saddest. In fact, now that I have shared the events of my early life with you, I find myself mostly lucky to have been able to survive it all. I know that some of the kids who spent time with me at Ville Joie and also a few others who went through similar events in their lives before or after me didn’t have the luck I have had and they are no longer with us to recount their tales, to tell us how confusing and how painful life can sometimes be even if you live in a place called Happy Town.

I guess I can find some pride in knowing that, added to this luck, was the strength I have shown in leading a somewhat normal life in the circumstances, even if it amounts to just doing what had to be done, even if it amounts to nothing more than surviving.

I have learned very early in my life that sometimes, all we need to clear the confusion in our mind or to heal the pain in our heart can find its way to us, wrapped in a short sentence. It’s no coincidence that in this life, one of the many things we should be thankful for is also one of the very few things we know is a certainty. And it’s no coincidence it is also a very short sentence.

It’s a wild world.

We leave you, for now, with this last song from Cat Stevens.”

The great thing after working with someone you trust day in and day out, is that you get to a point where you don’t need to talk to know exactly what someone else is thinking. I knew Susan would keep Wild World as the last song of the show as I suspected she knew it would be appropriately suited for my closing segment. She leaves her booth to come in my studio and proceeds to walk in my direction. I instinctively rise from my chair, stick my phone in my pocket and meet her halfway to give her a big hug as well as thank her for her friendship. Her response is barely audible because the song playing in the background is mixing with the noise outside my booth coming from the crowd that has erupted in applause after the on air light went dark.

As Susan and I look and smile at each other, I can feel my phone vibrate so I reach for it in my pocket to get it out and have a look at it like an old pro.

“Oh good lord,” Susan says.
“You’re gonna get addicted to those aren’t you?”…

Do not reproduce or copy the content of this post as it is the sole property of citizenofvillejoie.com Contact: steve.marchand@rogers.com

This project is entirely written on an iPad.

I do not have representation.

Citizen of Ville Joie – Love, what else…

18 Thursday Apr 2013

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Please read “About this project and the Author” for more information on my project. In this excerpt, Daryl speaks about love.

“…I have been trained to wish for love so intensely and for so long, in the end it’s the wishing that contents me and as more time passes, I become less willing to trade that comfort for the uncertainty that often accompanies actual love. I swear the stuff the human spirit can learn to live with.

As a result, I choose to have relationships but never to really be in one, hovering instead on the surface and when things get too deep, when the uncertainty becomes all there is, silence comes to the rescue. Just like silence came to my rescue on the faithful day I was taken from my family and driven to an orphanage in a big white car by a complete stranger wearing a suit.

Love. Love, what else, would be my curse, an inescapable failure throughout the years as a result of the words written for me long ago in the chapter of my life discussing affection and intimacy. Like all children I wished and expected for certain matters of the heart to unfold naturally. I expected love from my mother, instead she disappeared behind a closed door and left me to stand as an orphan by my suitcase. I expected to share a bond with my brothers and my sister, but we became strangers instead. I wished for love from the first family I was sent to, but they broke my bones, tore my skin and planted the seed of shame inside of me. Deep down, I wished for love from or for each of the other families I crossed path with, in return I rejected them or they rejected me.

I wasn’t the victim in all of this. Love, what else, was the victim.

So, what could possibly compel me to tell my story now and in such details after all the years of efforts I deployed to blur its images with a thick veil of silence? Love, what else. Love, and woman. A stunning and brilliant woman who also disappeared behind a closed door in a moment that awoke in me a feeling so old, the dust raised by that gesture made my heart sneeze. A woman who has in her eyes a kindness equal only to that of Danielle’s and who has twice the good looks of “Andrée with two e’s”. She wished for closeness, she received nothing but silence instead. I look forward to beg for her forgiveness while holding a bag of fresh pastries…”

Do not reproduce or copy the content of this post as it is the sole property of citizenofvillejoie.com Contact: steve.marchand@rogers.com

This project is entirely written on an iPad.

I do not have representation.

Citizen of Ville Joie – An angel on my shoulder

04 Thursday Apr 2013

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Please read “About this project and the Author” for more information on my project. In this excerpt, Daryl speaks about what Danielle meant to him.

“…But for now, we return to our story and the conclusion to Citizen of Ville Joie.

I have been told by my parents that I have nothing to worry about, that they will keep me no matter what happens. My long journey into the unknown is now behind me so I can focus on being a kid and ask myself inconsequential questions such as “who do I want to be when I grow up?” instead of big ones like “where will I be tomorrow?”

I’m making a few friends and see them every day at the community centre where we hang out most of the time and I begin playing baseball with some personal success although as a team, we all know we will never amount to anything. Summer goes by fast and I attend the local school where I make a lot of new friends. Our teacher is nothing but kind and patient even though I act like a mentally challenged class clown most of the time.

One day, after school, my mom announces to me that Danielle has lost her long battle with cancer. Hearing this, of course, takes me by surprise and saddens me but I don’t react to the news of her death with as much emotion as one would imagine. It will be a few years later or when I begin revisiting my past through a more mature eye, that I will be able to measure Danielle’s immense impact on my life and appreciate the importance all she did for me. As an orphan, I was lucky enough to benefit from her kindness, from her devotion and I absolutely adored her company but I couldn’t process everything it meant at the time because there were too many things happening around me so fast. I will need a little more living and little more losing before I can learn the true meaning of appreciation.

The afternoon Danielle and I first met, she made the promise to find me a home, knowing how testing it would be even in the best of circumstances. Obviously, she made that promise before she knew she would face this personal and painful challenge. With her own body working against her spirit, she kept a promise she made to a child who wasn’t even hers and she worked until the very end to keep her promise to give me a life, even though she was in the process of losing her own. She lives still in my memories of Happy Town, in the kindness I can see in others thanks to the example of her own and yes, she lives in the regrets I feel whenever I look back on some of the things I wish I could do over. I wish I could see her again, hold her tight in my arms as I know I would and thank her for everything she did for me.

Danielle forever is an angel on my shoulder.

A few years past and my parents who opted to wait until I was old enough for my signature to be legally binding, take me to the local Social Services’ office so I can sign the adoption papers and officially become their son.

I keep going about my life the best I can and experience my teenage years like any other normal teenager you’ve ever known. That’s if there is such a thing and you’ve ever known one. I smoke, I drink and I get caught. I stay, I leave, I live, I fail and I come back. Life is strange that way; maturity has this way of showing up after you mess up which is usually when you don’t need it anymore.

As a young adult I spend years trying to heal the wounds from my past and fight with everything I’ve got to shed a layer of skin stained with the shame and the sadness left by these confusing years. I refuse to succeed at anything, sabotaging countless golden opportunities, believing to my very core that I am not deserving of the happiness that would accompany any accomplishment.

When I finally become an adult, not in birthdays but in actual mental age, I get to discover which of these wounds will never completely heal. Love, what else, as the deepest and the most grueling of them all.

Early on, I make a habit of dating women with whom I know for certain there is no possible future. Women who in return will use my vulnerabilities and hurt me deeply, some of them without even realizing it, others for their own entertainment. I can’t really blame any of them; I drive most of them to do it. This never ending battle that took place inside of me throughout the events of my childhood, this desire for happiness which constantly clashed with my self imposed restrain from enjoying it, stays in me until the quandary itself becomes a biological part of who I am.

I was trained to wish for love so intensely and for so long, in the end it’s the wishing I became comfortable with and as more time passed, I became less willing to trade that comfort for the unavoidable uncertainty that accompanies actual love…”

Do not reproduce or copy the content of this post as it is the sole property of citizenofvillejoie.com Contact: steve.marchand@rogers.com

This project is entirely written on an iPad.

I do not have representation.

Citizen of Ville Joie – Everything will be fine

28 Thursday Mar 2013

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Please read “About this project and the Author” for more information on my project. In this excerpt taken from the real part of my story, Daryl finds out who is behind his introduction to his agent.

“…Also a proof of how much at peace am I now is when my phone vibrates and I calmly reach for it to see who is texting me instead of feeling the need to run for a defibrillator.

It’s Annie. The image of her face is the perfect background for my current state of mind. And her words, her words are like a light at the end of this dark tunnel I entered a few weeks ago.

“I’m at your house,” her message begins. “Stop by our bakery on your way home, will you? I know it’s only Thursday but we owe each other a Sunday.”

In this one message is all ever I wanted to know and I close my eyes to sink it all in before looking down at my phone to type “Thank you” and send it.

Just as I’m about to lean closer to the microphone and ready myself to resume my show, Annie, who can type much faster than I could ever dream of, sends me her response.

“You’re welcome. Don’t forget to thank Lenny too.”

I’ll never deny that I owe Lenny a whole lot but I find it strange that Annie would mention him and remind me to thank him today of all days. I’m about to go back on the air and I have very little time for a lengthy exchange so I just ask “Why Lenny?”

“He and Chuck are old friends,” she answers. “Lenny told me about Linden&Baker and gave Chuck a heads up.”

I didn’t see that coming. I can now see how it was possible for me to trust Chuck so completely and so fast. He’s Lenny. Well, Lenny with a lot more money. I just now realize that in my selfishness, it never occurred to me to ask Annie how it was she came to know that an agency as prestigious as Linden&Baker was looking to expand it’s representation business to Media personalities like me.

Everything seems to be falling in place. Annie is still in my life, Lenny is still in my career and now, the guys from Corporate are giving me the thumbs up. Earlier, I dared think maybe I was going to be fine. Now I know.

“I’ll thank him,” I write to Annie. “Right after I deny you pastries for hiding that from me.”

I would do as she does and add a smily face thing, an “emocon” I think it’s called, to make sure she knows I’m only kidding except I’m too new at this and I have no clue how to do it…”

Do not reproduce or copy the content of this post as it is the sole property of citizenofvillejoie.com Contact: steve.marchand@rogers.com

This project is entirely written on an iPad.

I do not have representation.

Citizen of Ville Joie – Bearable memories

20 Wednesday Feb 2013

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Please read “About this project and the Author” for more information on my project. In this excerpt taken from the biographical part of my story, Daryl says goodbye to Gerard and Grace.

“…I spend my last few days with Gerard and Grace apprehending our goodbyes and when it finally comes, it is as difficult as I expected it would be. On my last day as Daryl D., Danielle was supposed to pick me up after school and drive me to my new home, where I would begin my life as Daryl H. Since school was within walking distance of our house, I was lucky enough to go home every day for lunch which I would share with Grace.

At lunch time, Gerard shows up to have lunch with Grace and I, which is something that has happened only a handful of times so far. He says he wanted to spend a little more time with me so here we are, sitting at the table, eating our food in silence. Food which used to taste so good just because it was prepared by Grace, just because I got to eat it in her company.

Before he leaves to go back to work, Gerard stands by the door as I sit at the kitchen table and we look at each other one last time. He tells me he has never been good at saying goodbye but he wishes me the best of luck and all the happiness I can find. He then lowers his head, turns quickly and walks out. I swear, I heard his heart break as he walked through that door. This is one of those moments, so intense they cannot be made up or imagined. The kind of moment meant to be remembered forever, exactly as it happened, because it is filled with the memory of a true and honest to the bone sadness. And that’s what time uses to make it bearable.

After Gerard leaves, I try and eat as much of my meal as I can but it’s not easy to get anything down with my heart in my throat. The time for me to go back to school has come which means it’s time to officially leave this family behind and hope the afternoon with my friends will bring some sort of comfort and help me forget that I woke up this morning with one family and will go to bed tonight with a new one. I tell myself that I have to try and be strong so I can keep it together at least until then. There’s something about a bed, any bed really, that makes it the perfect place for tears. Sadness however, can sometimes be a diva so it doesn’t always care what the plans are, so it shows up whenever it wants and demands every bit of attention.

I give Grace a heartfelt goodbye kiss and get out of the house, this house I am no longer allowed to call home. At the very moment I close the door behind me, I burst into tears and I am incapable off controlling my sobs, not even when I make it to school and enter the yard. I rush straight the restrooms to hide in one of the stalls. When class resumes and I take my seat, I have big, red puffy eyes which makes it impossible to hide that something is very wrong.

Thankfully, I only have to sit in class few minutes in that state. That is until the principal summons me to his office where he tells me he has received a phone call from Danielle informing him of my situation and asking him to make sure I am doing fine. The principal tells me I am quite brave in my attempt to hide from everyone what I am currently going through. I raise my head to look straight at him and after a short moment, I tell him I have lost my family for the fifth time. I tell him this attempt has nothing to do with being brave and everything to do with being ashamed. I just didn’t want to share with others the details of my latest failure to please. He looks at me as if a ten year old has just spoken to him like an old man tormented by the regrets accumulated during an entire lifetime.

I remain in the principal’s office until Danielle arrives earlier than planned to pick me up and instead of attending afternoon class, I spend the afternoon in her comforting company. At a time like this, it feels good to have her by my side. Her words and the sound of her voice work their magic on me as always and I gradually begin to breathe better, see more clearly ahead of me and my heart returns to a more manageable rhythm. Later, just before dinner, she drives me to my new home, makes sure I am at ease and says goodbye.

I will see Danielle again. I will see her one last time…”

Do not reproduce or copy the content of this post as it is the sole property of citizenofvillejoie.com Contact: steve.marchand@rogers.com

This project is entirely written on an iPad.

I do not have representation.

Citizen of Ville Joie – The Glutton for Affection

07 Thursday Feb 2013

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Please read “About this project and the Author” for more information on my project. In this excerpt taken from the biographical part of my story, Daryl is happy with his family. Will it last?

“…January flies by with school and the addition a few new friends from the neighborhood I have now allowed myself to have. Even though I’m one of the youngest and smallest boys on my street, they let me play street hockey with them before dinner every night. Whatever I lack in size and age, I make up for by goofing off and making the older boys laugh their heads off. Some of them even invite me to visit them at their house on week-ends, something I usually do after my session of Saturday morning cartoons with Gerard and Grace. Weeknights are spent doing homework at the kitchen table with Grace’s help after street hockey or playing with my race track in the basement until Gerard gets home from work and we all have dinner together. Then it’s off to the living to watch our nightly TV shows with Gerard and I laughing on the couch for Grace’s enjoyment.

I’m happy and just as I was advised to do years ago in Happy Town, I’m living my life in the moment, having finally stopped wondering where I am going to be sent the following day. My tenth birthday is fast approaching and as hard as it is to believe coming from a child, I am actually aware of my happiness and I am aware of my luck. I realize the immense comfort the routine of our little family unit is to me.

I’m enjoying every single moment of it all and to the fullest. So much so that I have become completely oblivious to what the others around me may want or need. I forgot there was one little thing I was supposed to do when I began sharing Gerard and Grace’s life. I forgot I was supposed to learn how to be a son, that it’s quite alright to receive so long as you give at the very least a little something in return.

I have been deprived of affection for so long and even of at times it was by my own doing, I came to believe it was owed to me until I eventually became nothing less than a glutton for it. The quest for happiness can turn an otherwise well intentioned soul into a deeply selfish one. This was finally my time, my family, my happiness and by God I had earned it, so I opened my arms to let in the trust and I opened my heart to let in the love not knowing how to give some of it back to Gerard and Grace.

During my time at the orphanage, I was told I was supposed to crave for a family. It was made to be this exciting goal to reach and that’s perfectly fine. No realized I had no clue what a family meant and no one thought of factoring in the consequences of the experiences I encountered on my journey to that goal. When it was within my grasp, when this family was finally offered to me on a silver platter, I reached out and with both hands and stuffed myself like an ogre. I went to bed every night with my heart satiated and in the morning, I demanded an even bigger portion than the one I had the day before. I took and took and took until that silver platter was empty.

As for Gerard and Grace, they both seem equally happy and I am as close to Gerard as I have ever been to another human being.

I say, seem happy. I should know better than anyone else that the appearance of happiness is no proof of its existence. I did after all put on a show for the adults around me for a while and pretended to be happy just so I could be left alone. Of course, now I no longer feel the need to pretend because I can finally see life with a family through the eyes of a happy child and as such, I have allowed joy to overwhelm me and I have let my hopes rise to the point where I could no longer feel them, to the point where I didn’t feel my guard lowering itself either. It is no longer a reflex for me, as it has been in the past, to be on the lookout for bad signs, for bad vibes. I was so happy, I forgot the only truth I has been the one constant in my life. I forgot that it can all be taken away from me at a moment’s notice.

Less than a week shy of my birthday…”

Do not reproduce or copy the content of this post as it is the sole property of citizenofvillejoie.com Contact: steve.marchand@rogers.com

This project is entirely written on an iPad.

I do not have representation.

Citizen of Ville Joie – Can words beat money?

02 Saturday Feb 2013

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Please read “About this project and the Author” for more information on my project. In this excerpt taken from the fictional part of my story, Daryl talks about the format of the radio station.

“…As I get ready to tackle the last hour of my show, more and more people arrive at the station, forming a bit of a crowd by the glass outside of my studio. This is wasn’t that unusual only a few years back but it doesn’t happen anymore. When Lenny was our boss, it wouldn’t have been surprising for a group of people to show up at the station bright and early with coffee, muffins and a smile for Susan and I and wait for the show to come to an end to treat us to breakfast and stimulating conversations. The station itself was old friend we went out of way to go shoot the breeze with.

Now with Corporate, its business culture and the type of employees they planted at the station, very few people see any benefits in coming to work before their scheduled hours. These people are coming to work while we used to just “go to the station”. I never saw this as work or a job; it was just what I did. I once told Jackson, as he was pitching me one of his brilliant ideas “to improve the bottom line” of my show that I understood this was his job and it was fine by me if he wanted to mix entertainment with business but to please leave me out of it because it sounded like he wanted me to sell something to people more than entertain them. I told him it’s hard to sell fun when the salesman doesn’t have any.

I can sense the looks of those who stopped outside my studio to peek in and I’m certain some of them are wondering what on earth I’m doing. There used to be an unspoken rule about using the microphone for personal issues and whoever did it had better have a good reason. These days there’s a big chunk of the airwaves filled by people with verbal diarrhea who can’t seem to be able to stop spilling their guts for a living so it’s difficult to figure out when one actually crosses that line or if the line even exists anymore with entire radio and TV stations dedicated to pretty much just that. Not enough mops in the world to clean up their mess, I swear.

Although that’s barely the case for us, I’d be hard-pressed to put a specific name on what the format of our station was turned into under the reign of Corporate. Regardless of what it’s called, I’m quite certain Susan was right when she said Jackson and the other suits are not going to like what I did tonight. Sure, some of their anger will come from the fact that I deviated from the script by going deeply personal all night, but I suspect most of it will come from the fact that it was me, me of all people, who brought a great deal of attention and many more listeners to the station. I did it in one night, simply by using words to tell a story like I always do. And I did it without using any of their ideas. No, they’re not going to be happy my words beat their money. I’m thinking forget them…”

Do not reproduce or copy the content of this post as it is the sole property of citizenofvillejoie.com Contact: steve.marchand@rogers.com

This project is entirely written on an iPad.

I do not have representation.

Citizen of Ville Joie – The lowest step

29 Tuesday Jan 2013

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Please read “About this project and the Author” for more information on my project. In this excerpt, Daryl returns home after the surgery.

“…At night, any unusual sound or movement coming from bedroom wakes up Gerard and sends him rushing to my bedside to check on me. I return to school on the Monday morning with a giant protruding nose in the middle of my face, but nobody mocks me having been warned by the principal not to do so. As the days past, the pain slowly disappears and I resume the normal life of a normal child with a desire for peace and an appetite for all good things life has to offer I never knew existed in me.

A couple of weeks later, we celebrate our first Christmas together. In the afternoon of Christmas eve, one of Gerard’s friends visits us dressed up like Santa. While, I’m grateful for the thought I’m not impressed since I don’t come from a place that made it easy to believe in fairytales and as such, I can’t remember ever believing in Santa Claus.

We spend that evening just the three of us, keeping toasty warm by a small wood burning stove in the basement. This night is so peaceful and I feel so safe, if anybody asked me what these moments mean to me, the first word to come out of my mouth would be family. Not because it’s the the word they would want to hear but because it is truly, and finally, how I feel.

This night is quite the contrast compared to what Christmas was like at the orphanage. I can still remember the anxiety growing inside of me as preparations were underway for my first Christmas in Happy Town.

I was sitting on the lowest step of a very tall ladder that had been used to hook the Christmas ornaments in a giant tree. Well, it seemed giant but then again I was six or seven years old, so anything appeared giant next to me. The adults had been running like headless chickens all day setting things up for the big night which was now just a few moments away. In the weeks prior, I had heard the other kids at school describe what a Merry Christmas was going to be like for them. The words they used sounded quite beautiful but none of them rang a bell. I just thanked God the teacher never called on me to tell my story because my only memory of Christmas until then was sitting by the cranked up electric stove with my brothers and my sister, the oven door halfway down to keep us somewhat warm. There were no presents to unwrap and the only few words that were spoken were from my sister, the oldest, to remind us it was indeed Christmas morning.

A couple of short years later, I was living in an orphanage and getting ready to celebrate Christmas for the first time. I sat on the step of that ladder not by choice, but because I felt crushed by the weight of excitement on one shoulder and envy on the other. I just happened to be closer to the ladder than I was to a chair when the weight became too much for me to bear. Thanks to the other kids at school, I had discovered what Christmas was supposed to be and it wasn’t what had been in the making all day. At the same time now, thanks to the orphanage, I knew what being safe and warm on a cold and special winter night felt like. I was overwhelmed equally by desire and gratitude and I couldn’t handle it.

When she noticed the look on my face, Carol one of our beloved educators pulled a chair to sit in front of me and softly asked what was wrong. Of all the many valuable lessons I kept from the orphanage, honesty was the one they taught us with the most consistency, so when Carol asked her question, all I could do was tell her the truth. I told her I felt happy and excited about the night to come but that I felt kind of bad for also wanting what the other kids at school were having with their families at that very moment. I told her I knew Christmas was not supposed to be what it was about to be for me. Carol consoled me, and convinced me to try and live in the moment so as not to miss the little joys life was so desperately trying to give me.

So I went along with it as we, the orphans, accompanied by the educators who had also brought in a few special guests and marched to the small auditorium of the orphanage to celebrate Christmas. There, we were treated to an entertaining show of skits and songs put together and performed by the police officers of the local precinct. All year long, they had raised money through various events and rehearsed their performances just so they could buy us gifts and entertain us on Christmas night. They had left their families behind on the most important night of the year to spend it with us. I received two gifts; a guitar and a small work table with real tools. I laughed and sang all evening long.

For these few hours, it no longer mattered what the other children from school were enjoying on their side. I was no longer aware of where I was or even that I was an orphan. In the course of one night, I learned about kindness, about the generosity and joy that can be found regardless of where you sit. Even if it’s on the lowest step of a very tall ladder…”

Do not reproduce or copy the content of this post as it is the sole property of citizenofvillejoie.com Contact: steve.marchand@rogers.com

This project is entirely written on an iPad.

I do not have representation.

Citizen of Ville Joie – The closeness happiness brings…

01 Tuesday Jan 2013

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Please read “About this project and the Author” for more information on my project. In this excerpt, Daryl enjoys happiness and closeness.

“School is great but, I’m reluctant to make friends. There are a few kids I like and I have a great time with them while we’re in school, but I don’t don’t make any move to befriend them in a way that would facilitate seeing them outside of school. Old habits die hard. Although things are great in my life right now, I know I can still be gone at a moment’s notice so making friends is not something I am willing to contemplate easily, plus I have already grown so close to Gerard and Grace that I don’t feel the need to have any more friends outside of our little unit. We are so close in fact that, for the first time since the beginning of my journey and probably because I actually have a strong father figure in my life, I allow an adult inside of my personal space, something I have absolutely no recollection of ever doing.

Every evening after dinner, I lie down on the couch with Gerard where he wraps his big arms around me and tickles me until I can barely breathe, as Grace looks on, laughing and begging Gerard not to make me laugh so much. This of course, in between the crying fits she usually has while watching Little House on the Prairie. I am nine years old and until I met Gerard and Grace I have never experienced enough peace inside of me or trust toward someone else to be able to allow myself to experience, let alone enjoy, this much closeness to another human being.

November is just around the corner and I am becoming more and more part of the family as I meet new cousins, uncles and aunts all of the time. The concept and the meaning of an extended family, somewhat lost on me with the other families, is now better revealed thanks to the peace and also the hint of confidence I am feeling deep inside. I had the same with the other families but, this time, I am more aware of its significance and the happiness it brings. I enjoy spending time with all of them and why not; they are all so nice to me. Especially Grace’s sisters, always giving me small gifts and dropping by specifically to check up on me and see how I am doing.

At once, life is good and I fully intend to take advantage of all it has to offer.

However, if life has showed me something about itself in the last few years, it was its own imperfection. Grace and Gerard notice…”

Do not reproduce or copy the content of this post as it is the sole property of citizenofvillejoie.com Contact: steve.marchand@rogers.com

This project is entirely written on an iPad.

I do not have representation.

Citizen of Ville Joie – The pinch for Allan

12 Wednesday Dec 2012

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Please read “About this project and the Author” for more information on my project. In this excerpt, Daryl recounts the last night of his last summer camp in Happy Town.

“A few more minutes of silence, long enough to realize and reflect on the fact that these are my last hours as an orphan, as a Citizen of Ville Joie, and we go to bed in the dormitory located in the main camp. As we have done so many nights before, we chat in whispers some more before we fall asleep. Our nightly conversation is going just fine and the mood is light until one of the other kids turns to Allan and I and asks if we are sad to know that, after we leave in the morning, we will never see each other again. Oh, the sensitivity of a child. Although it would have hit us tomorrow, hearing the words now makes it official right at this moment and I instinctively bury my face in my pillow so nobody sees me and begin to try and cry myself to sleep as I hear Allan in the bed next to mine do the same.

The certainty of this upcoming separation has always been indeed painful. When he left the orphanage the night before Gerard and Grace came to meet me, I thought I had lost him forever. It had all happened so fast, there was this feeling of something incomplete inside of me. Allan is after all the one who thought me what having a best friend is all about and he did it just by being himself. He is the one who made our friendship what it is by taking the lead, by playing along with me and by teaching me to play marbles. He means so much to me, I feel the need to give him all the credit for “Daryl and Allan”. Luckily though, I have shared with Allan so many experiences, all of them filled with such intense emotions in the few years we have spent in Happy Town that, with the chance offered by this last summer camp, nothing is left unsaid, there is now no unfinished business between us. The tears I let out in my pillow, one for each of the marbles we have won together, are just a final pinch to my heart, a pinch he has earned over the years of moments of us, interrupted only by stays with families. A pinch he has earned over the years of uninterrupted friendship we shared no matter where we were.

The following morning when we wake up, we feel much better and after one last breakfast sitting next to one another, when the time to leave actually comes, we say goodbye like the big boys that we now are and return to our families.

I will never see Allan again.

I return with Gerard and Grace and the rest of the summer goes by very slowly, just like it’s supposed to be when you’re a kid…”

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This project is entirely written on an iPad.

I do not have representation.