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Belinda Burston
Writer; photographer; reader; believer; baker of pies; student of life and all things interesting; member of The Word Guild and InScribe
Writer; photographer; reader; believer; baker of pies; student of life and all things interesting; member of The Word Guild and InScribe
Belinda's posts

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It was a season of “lasts:” the last budget preparation at
year-end; the last 1.1 with each of her direct reports; the last meeting of
each of the many groups and committees of which she had been part for so many
years--the last this—the last that. She had ...

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The Air We Breathed
We know that each generation influences the next with its physical DNA, passing on predictors of appearance; health; gifts; interests and propensities. But there are other things less tangible that invisibly and strongly, guide the actions and attitudes of ...

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The Dairy Queen Debacle
I have discovered that the road to high drama or comedy
often starts out as an innocuous trail of breadcrumbs. Such was the case recently, when in the middle of cleaning
her kitchen cupboards my friend Susan texted me with the wry declaration that
she was m...

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Of Cupboards and Cornflake Boxes
I had spent Wednesday upstairs emptying cupboards, and cleaning and organizing them while from the kitchen below, the whine of an electric screwdriver drifted up--new cupboard doors were being attached to our still sturdy, old cupboard frames. The bathroom ...

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A river of moonlight lay across the floor and beckoned like a trail of breadcrumbs.  I followed it,  moving gingerly,  feeling clumsy as I felt my way to  our large back-room. I had come  down before bed,  for something I'd forgotten,  without turning the l...

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Words--they can be regretted; explained; justified; or
apologized for, but never retrieved—and that’s the very thing we often long to
do. Once careless, hurtful words are expressed, like homing
missiles, they find their mark with terrifying precision and de...

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The Ticking Clock
I've often felt out of step with our time-pressured, outcome-measuring society, and never more than now.  I find myself at the end of cashier's lines, as the next person's items start piling up before I've packed and removed my bags. I feel slow as I put aw...

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There's Always More Ink
December 31st...a day to look back before looking ahead; at where I didn't do as well as hoped, and where I have changed for the better (in my experience, with God's help.)  I opened the small pink patterned note book in which I chronicled this year's chall...

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The Mittens
About two weeks before Christmas, a call for help came from Daisy, a respected member of the community  of  Mishkeegogamang . She told us that m any of the 200 children who attend  Missabay School  in the growing community,  needed mittens. Since the temper...

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The Christmas Gift
I read the story over lunch a few days before Christmas, and laughed out loud alone in my kitchen, as it brought to colourful life in my imagination, the hilarious scenario played out on the page in black on white. A day or so later, I was talking to my son...
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