|Photo: Stefan Jonasson||Author: W.D. Valgardson, Victoria, BC
Water. I turned on the tap. Water poured out of the spout. I’m old enough for that to be a miracle. I stood there, watching the kettle fill up and thought of my mother. God help her. She married my father in 1938 when she was sixteen. They moved into their own house in 1940. Good house, a real house, not a shanty. Eight hundred square feet – three small bedrooms, a dining room, living room, and kitchen. A basement. A front porch that gave the house a touch of elegance. . . .