Breaking Morning #1

Here I am, as day commences to alleviate the night, my greying hair pulled back in a fuchsia scarf. Despite the grip of a hot flash, I’m shivering, hands pressed to my thighs, a teetering, chicken-shanked isolate transfixed like a bug on a pin of the knowledge of what I was about to do. Until today, I’d always been leery of the darkness, of the limitless outside, the wilting chill of day-to-day, of unpredictabilities surrounding me like critical spectators. They’ll be silenced, soon enough. And perhaps the flames of hell will thaw my withered heart.

The sky pales from indigo to rosy mauve then to a shimmer of wet pewter streaked with yellow. Suspended over the plate glass of Gull Lake is a long tongue of dock that juts away from the looming tumble of shadowed break wall. A cloak of condensation dusts the long strips of worn cedar with damp glitter in the glancing shafts of sunrise. Spider webs jeweled with dew shiver with each bump of the scarred wooden rowboat trussed at the bow to a rusted wharf ring. A bleached cocktail-cherry sun crowns through a jagged cleft of the Canadian Shield then breaks free. Arching against the Muskoka hills, the pale trunks of birch trees remind me of the three-day beard I’ll never caress again.

I ease my stiff neck and turn my eyes to the west, where stands of shadowy conifers mat the cheeks of the rustling forest. Like a desiccated sponge in an uncertain hand, I’m poised to absorb all of these last times, halfway between here and there, not quite sure where or what ‘there’ is anymore. What is certain is my conviction, stoked by recollections that weigh like thick fists on my shoulders.

My bare feet are cold. My flesh trembles beneath layers of old sweat pants, hoodies and t-shirts. ‘Dead weight when wet’, I’d read when I did my research. I scratch my hip where the lace trim on my expensive new panties – bought with hope that someone would want to tear them off, except that no one did – is irritating my flesh. Stop dithering.

Silence muffles my ears like headphones. Nothingness has replaced the mess that last forever winter was me, being left …alone. Not for much longer.

...read on for part 2

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Why Mystery?

by Hyacinthe Miller • 14 July 2026

Ordinary people = engaging suspense

Gooooooaaaaaallll!

by Hyacinthe Miller • 2 July 2026

When people think about international sporting events, they often picture the action inside stadiums jammed with tens of thousands of screaming fans. Yet, some of the most memorable moments happen far beyond the first and last whistles. What I’ve seen in Mexico during a FIFA match, is entire towns transformed by watch parties in homes or bars, convoys of vehicles honking horns and waving flags from windows, and everyone out celebrating. We’re all wearing green shirts in honour of our Mexican football team and it’s amazing. It’s been a time when strangers become neighbours for a few unforgettable weeks. Walking through the streets at any time of day, you can feel the energy. Hawkers are selling Mexican themed team shirts of all kinds. Families bring their lawn chairs to the malacon to watch the match on a big screen television set up by the skateboard park. Before and afterwards, folks gather in the central square. A few weeks ago, I was on a flight from Toronto to Mexico City connecting to Guadalajara. Fans from all over the world were wearing team jerseys. There was such a happy buzz of pride and laughter. The man I sat beside was born in Mexico but hadn’t been back in forty-one years (he’d had a complicated life). He had tickets to games in Mexico City (CDMX) and Guadalajara. When we arrived in Guadalajara airport, there were two lines of people dressed in team colours greeting everyone heading out of the terminal. Music, chanting, dancing—I’d never seen anything like it. Last night on my way home from watching the game with a group of friends, there were no cars on the streets. It was eerily quiet. Even the dogs were silent. Yet, form every house I passed by on the way home, I could hear the game and cheers behind the curtains. When Mexico ended the game with a 2-0 win, then the celebrations spilled into the streets. Lots of cohetes being set off, cheering, and horns honking long after the match had ended. Everywhere you look, people are wearing team jerseys, interesting headgear or draping themselves in the flag. The sense of excitement is contagious. What makes the celebration especially memorable is the friendliness of the Mexican people. We saw lots of that hospitality offered in Tijuana to the Iranian team, whose exclusion form the US meant they had to fly out of Mexico for every match, and return afterwards. The Korean team will remember Mexican hospitality for a long time. In fact, there are lots of memes circulating that in nine months, there will be dozens of Korean Mexican babies born with names like Fernando Kim, Yoon Sun Lopez, Andreas Lorenzo Lee, Lourdes Maria Park. Especially in these troubled times, events like soccer with teams from around the world, remind us that competition can unite people and give them a break from political shanigans.

Breaking Morning #1

The Lake Decision - 1

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