Tag Archives: Life

Citizen of Ville Joie is changing!

16 Thursday May 2013

Posted by in Personal thoughts

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Good day to all,

You may have noticed that there has been less updates on my blog lately! Well, have you? Because it’s true!

I have been reflecting on my story and I have come to the conclusion that a change was needed, and so a change was made.

And boy is it ever a big one!

You see, I began my story, Citizen of Ville Joie, using the “Biography-through-Fiction” format, believing that I needed a fictional character to tell my story in order to express what I truly wanted to write about : emotions.

As I was editing my text, however, I realized that I no longer needed that character, or that cane to lean on, in order to achieve the goal of getting the reader to feel what I was feeling during these troubled times in my childhood. I believe it comes out just fine when I tell the story with my own words, as me. So all I need now is a new First chapter to lead into the recounting of the events and I’ll be on the right track! Well, that and finish the editing, and the re-editing, and the re-re-re-editing. And then, re-write and re-edit the first, the second and also the third re-write. And of course make sure there are no “speliing miss steaks”. Then I’ll be done. Maybe.

And here’s the kick…the English and the French versions will come out at the same time. Oh, the joy d’être capable of parler deux languages!

I love you guys and I appreciate your support as always!

Steve

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

Posted by in Second pass

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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 – The sun rises

21 Thursday Mar 2013

Posted by in Excerpts from Citizen of Ville Joie, Second pass

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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 talks about being home at once.

“…When I first moved in with my new family, I became Daryl H. but the moment I hear my mother’s words, is the exact moment I become Daryl Heart and a tremendous weight is lifted off of my shoulders. I feel confident enough to make new friends and after a wonderful first summer, with the new school year in full swing, I complete my integration not only with my family but also in the community.

As for that fragrance I couldn’t describe when I had visited my family’s house on the I met with them, the pleasant aroma that intrigued me so much at the time, was the one of comfort. My senses were trying to speak to me and tell me I was home at once. So many emotions in such a short time for such a small heart. My life had been so complicated, the events and emotions so overwhelming that the simplicity of the next few years to come would be a blessing.

One last break and when return, the conclusion to tonights’s story.”

Surprising how something you get to see every day can, given the right circumstances, reveal itself to you in a whole different light, with a whole different meaning. While I was going through these last two segments, I knew, of course, there was a light coming at the end of that dark tunnel I entered at some point in my childhood and as I spoke, I kept staring out one of the windows of my studio which offers a view of the city, a view made breathtaking by the sun slowly climbing above the high rise buildings, strangely following the rhythm of my story as I was tackling it’s final chapters. I have seen the sun rise through that window a few thousand times over the years I sat in that chair but it is today, of all days, that it decided to finally reveal its true beauty. A calming scene that sets the mood to help me finish my show in the right state of mind and better prepare me for the rest of this day which already has a different feel to it compared to my usual routine.

Through another window, the one that gives me a view inside of the station, I can now see that my good friends Sean and Chris from the morning show have joined the crowd of onlookers as have some of the suits who had rushed to Jackson’s office at his request in order to deal with what they saw as the crisis I had caused. They have different look than the one they had on their faces when they first got here. I’m thinking that during that little emergency meeting of theirs, they got a deeper look at the numbers Susan gave Jackson earlier and now, like the small minded accountants they are, they feel happy. One of them confirms it by giving me a thumbs up, accompanied of course by the phoniest of smiles. He doesn’t know, nor does he care, what it took to get those numbers, so long as they’re good. Where’s that good old gag reflex when you need it.

Also confirmed is how at peace I now feel with my situation when my phone vibrates and I calmly, almost instinctively, reach for it to see who is texting me instead of jumping with the look of someone in desperate need of a defibrillator.

It’s Annie. She is still there. Her face is the perfect background image for how I feel right now. And her words, her words are the light at the end of this dark tunnel, the one I entered a few weeks ago.

“I’m…”

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 strength within

24 Sunday Feb 2013

Posted by in Excerpts from Citizen of Ville Joie, Second pass

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Please read “About this project and the Author” for more information on my project. In this excerpt taken from my story, Daryl thinks about what Danielle, his case worker, meant to him as a child and still means today.

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

When we return, the conclusion to tonight’s story.”

The years that separate Danielle and I have severely faded the image I have of her in my mind but luckily, it has left untouched the way she made me feel and that is what resurfaces first when I think of her. When the mood calls for it, as it very much does right now, one deep breath with my eyes closed is all I need to recall how good it felt to be with her when I needed it the most and at the same time benefit from the remnants of appeasement she has kindly left for me not too far behind my memories of her. For that, I am greatly indebted to her and I welcome the good she still brings to my life as the gift it truly is.

It does matters more and more however that I never had a real picture of Danielle. Holding an image of her would add a tangible feel to the emotions she awakens when I think of her. Obviously, during the period I was lucky enough to have her as my case worker, the adults around me had to have their priorities straight and taking pictures, which was a lot more work back then compared to today, was probably not very high on their list.

Had I known then I would one day come to crave pictures of certain people from my youth, I would have insisted someone freeze a few moments in time. What I wouldn’t give today to have a picture of Danielle with her arm around my shoulders. I would guard with my life an image of Allan and I together at summer camp or one of Andrée with two ee’s smiling at me. The only picture I own of that period which is also the only one of me before the age of ten, is a picture of myself sitting in the mess hall at Ville Joie. I have no idea what I looked like when I was a baby, what I wore on my first day at school or thank God, if I looked as ridiculous as I felt wearing that ugly clip-on tie that went with that oversized suit of mine.

I feel selfish for focusing on what I wish I had when I carry in me the soothing memory of Danielle’s presence. After all I pressed myself to look back on tonight, remembering how Danielle calmed my fear of the unknown when I was a child is enough to convince me I have the strength to face the other kind of unknown coming my way today. Life is a lot easier when all you have to do is close your eyes, take a deep breath and conjure on a strength that already lives within. I guess that’s what they mean when they say you “have it in yourself” to do something.

It’s a brutal return to reality as I open my eyes to see Jackson in the midst of an animated discussion with Susan in her booth. Judging by the color on his face and also by his very presence here a solid two to three hours earlier than usual, he is aware of what I have been doing all night and he isn’t happy about it but Susan seems to be holding her ground. As much as I would like to, I don’t have enough time during this break to leave my seat and go get into an argument with him. He won’t go any further than Susan’s booth either, he knows better than to enter my studio during my show.

From my seat, I can see Susan showing him the numbers from last night and I don’t have to be a lip reader to understand she is telling him the feedback from the listeners have been great. Susan, being the competent producer that she is, has had the foresight through the entire night of printing a large number of positive Emails, Facebook posts and Tweets written by listeners from all over the world and she abruptly ends the conversation by shoving the entire stack of printouts in his hands. When Jackson turns around and walks out Susan’s booth holding this impressive pile of commendations, she gives me a feisty “I’ve got your back” kind of wink.

Jackson’s face was so red when he left her booth, his head will probably be medium-rare by the time he reaches his office. Or was he simply being choked by the particularly ugly tie he chose to wear for us today. Just this once, I’m going to be mean and allow myself to root for the latter…”

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

Posted by in Second pass

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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 – Déjà Vu for the Mind and Soul

16 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 biographical part of my story, Daryl meets yet again a new family.

“…I still have a few days left to spend with Gerard and Grace before I leave, which I try and use to mentally prepare myself for a return to Ville Joie, a move that has repeated itself every time things didn’t worked out with a family. A move that has also offered a much needed period of comfort, a buffer zone for the mind and soul, thanks to the familiar surroundings and the friendly faces within its walls.

Except I’m told there will be no such move to Happy Town this time around. I will be moving in straight with another family with no time to re-adjust, to regroup. No time to mourn the loss of one identity and no time to wish and prepare for the next one. There is a difference between feeling fear, which was a steady state of mind before I moved in with Gerard and Grace, and being indeed afraid. I have never been as afraid as I am right now and spend my remaining my days as Daryl D. keeping to myself and apprehending where life will to take me next.

On my tenth birthday, Danielle picks me up after school and drives me a local restaurant to meet with those who will soon be my new family. I am to meet with them first, then visit their home after which I will return with Gerard and Grace for a few more days before I have to leave them for good.

My new parents look great and appear to be very kind. Since it is my birthday, they treat me to a gigantic dessert and my new mom even gives me two dollars. Before we leave to visit their home, I get the choice of riding with my new mother in a comfortable Monte Carlo or with my new father in a big 4×4. I’m a ten year old boy so, of course I have my eyes on the pick-up truck. We drive for about twenty minutes and arrive at their home, a beautiful house by a wide river. The instant I get out of the truck, I am greeted by a big Collie named Charlemagne, who is nothing short of the nicest dog in the world. He playfully steals one of my mittens and dares me to chase him in the snow for it, which I gladly do for a few minutes.

We go inside the house for a tour. It has been built only a few ago and as such, some of the rooms haven’t even been carpeted yet. There is a nice feel to the inside of this house and a pleasant aroma all around. A fragrance really, sweet and discreet enough that it doesn’t weigh too much on the sense upon walking inside. It reminds me of something but at the moment I can’t put my finger on what it brings back to the surface. Call it a déjà vu for the mind and soul.

We go take a look upstairs where I am given the choice of my own bedroom out of three available. Feeling a little insecure in this big foreign house, I choose the one closest to my new parent’s room. We sit for a few minutes in the living room, until it is time for me to return to my current family, the one I will soon have to leave behind, and finish things up with them.

After Danielle drops me off, I tell Gerard and Grace all about what just happened. I tell them how my new parents have a nice house, two cars and a great big dog. They are genuinely happy for me but there is something unnatural about the scene; I’m telling my soon to be former family how great it was to meet my soon to be new family…”

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 time for “Why me?”

12 Tuesday 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 given the opportunity to ask “Why me?” for the first time.

“…Less than a week shy of my birthday, I sit with Gerard and Grace in the living room after dinner for our nightly routine but instead of being their normal relaxed and cheerful selves, both have a somber look on their faces as Grace announces that we need to have a serious conversation and then proceeds to give me the news that shatters my heart.

Grace tells me that as much as it makes them sad, as much as they love me, this isn’t working out for Gerard and herself and they have taken the difficult decision not to keep me. My world, once again, comes crashing down. Everything I had wanted for myself, everything I thought was finally mine and that I was now taking for granted like a home, a family, a name, a sense of safety, all of it vanished in an instant. I feel so defeated I can taste it and it is just as bitter as sadness.

Despite the many occasions afforded to me by the events of the last four years, there is one question I never dared to ask myself. I guess nothing of what I have experienced until now was far-reaching enough to justify using the words and so I subconsciously saved them for a truly deserving moment. As I listen to Grace telling me I have lost everything and that I will soon have to start all over again, the words hit me for the first time. Why me?

These are in fact the only words I see. Why do I deserve to feel once again the pain of rejection? What could I possibly have done at such a young age that could have been so terrible as to deserve this uncertainty that plagues my life? Why me?

As the scene unfolds, Gerard who is the strongest man I know, is so sad he can’t bring himself to say anything to me. Grace will later tell me he agonized over this difficult decision and lost a lot of sleep, spending countless hours talking her ear off about me and the decision they had to make, which was actually nice to know. Comfort can be found in everything, even in the struggles of others over heart wrenching decisions.

After she tells me the news and once the implications have sunk in, I ask Grace permission to take a bath to help me relax a little bit, to which she agrees. All I really want is to be alone so I can cry. I lay in the bathtub and bury my face in both my hands and I let it out. I let it out like I have never ever let it out before. Not when I lost my favorite intern Andree with two ee’s. Not even when I was separated from my best friend Allan. I let it out like I never knew I could and I ask myself the one question I can possibly ask myself at a moment like this, why me?

I still have a few days left to spend with Gerard and Grace before I leave which I try and use to mentally prepare myself for a return to Ville Joie, a move that has repeated itself every time things didn’t worked out with a family. A move that has also offered a much needed period of comfort thanks to the familiar surroundings and the friendly faces within its walls. ..”

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 gift that is dust…

25 Friday 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.

“…Before I leave the hospital though, I must undergo one last procedure and that is to remove two one foot long tightly compacted cotton stems the doctor inserted in each of my nostrils at the end of the surgery. When the doctor starts pulling at them one after the other, there is no stopping him and the pain I feel is exactly the one I felt when I threw water on my face after Mr D threw me down the stairs and I broke my nose a few years ago.

This time, because of the pain itself sure, but mostly as a result of an uncontrollable physical reaction, despite my best effort, I can’t hold back the tears. I don’t scream. I don’t say a word. I don’t ask for help. I all I do is shed a few tears and grab the arms of the chair I’m sitting in as hard as I can to try and cope with the moment. It’s just me and the pain, just like it was on that terrible night when I stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom and I grabbed the sink with both hands to be sure and suffer in a way that wouldn’t bother anyone.
Except today, I get to go home with Gerard and Grace and I know they’ll take care of me like no one ever has. After all I’ve been through, knowing this is all I need to be able to endure the pain until it subsides.

We return home and just after dinner, Gerard tells me in a serious tone that, now that I’m back, he needs to tell me I should take better care of my bedroom because he has seen some dust under my bed while I was away. I’m quite puzzled as to why he choses this moment to tell me something so trivial. I have just been discharged from the hospital after a big surgery and I’m supposed to clean my room? He keeps at it, insisting he has seen dust under my bed, that I should go and check it right now.

I can’t believe this is happening to me right now and I get really mad. I walk to my room taking loud steps, kneel by my bed, lift the comforter and without bending forward too much to avoid the pain from the blood rushing to my face, I slowly lower myself to see the darn dust Gerard wants me to clean. Only, instead of dust, I find a brand new electric race track. Carrying the race track in a box which is as big and as heavy as me, I run back to the dining room as fast as I can to find Gerard waiting for me in stitches and Grace standing next to him shaking her head in disbelief. Gerard says he was so proud of me, of how I behaved at the hospital and how I handled the surgery, he had to get me something as a reward.

I had just left the hospital that afternoon, I was in a lot of pain and still dizzy from the whole experience and I was in heaven! I spent the next three days playing with the race track with Gerard and the kids from the home next door.

At night, any unusual sound or movement coming from bedroom wakes up Gerard and sends him 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 disappeared and I resumed the normal life of a normal child…”

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.