The black book

My name is Jacques.

Oh my god is it 7:30 already? I scramble for my phone to snooze the alarm. Of course, its gotten tangled and lost in the bed covers while tossing and turning in the night. I really should put it on the bedside table instead of falling asleep to scrolling through Facebook. “Cael!!!!! Time to get up!” “You can come cuddle with Mom and I for 15 if you come now!” of course I’m saying this because I don’t want to get up myself yet. I can hear him step down the ladder to his bunkbed, and I’m grateful I don’t have to yell again. ‘Boy’s get up it’s after eight!!” damn I fell back asleep. Time to move. Ground hog day again. I know it’s cold out. Gotta be -30, and I better get the truck started. First eggs for the boy. “come on Cael get up! You’re gonna be late for school again!”

“Hey Dad. Have you uploaded any more videos to my channel?” This kid has been Minecraft crazy and watching youtube videos of people playing the game he loves. I don’t get it, but he enjoys it. At least MineCraft is a constructive problem-solving game. Better that then first-person shooter games I like to play.

A half hour later, we’re out the door. Damn I get frustrated with the dilly dally. Asking 5 times to get coat on. Wow! As I walk out the door my attitude changes immediately. It’s so beautiful, this neighborhood. The river out front, the mature elm trees, and school for Cael just down the street. It may be -30 out, but the rabbits are still foraging in the willows across the street. The bits of river exposed to the freezing air creates ice fog in the morning light. My iPhone camera would not do it justice.

“Hey Em!” I yell back though the open door. Cael walking down the snow-covered sidewalk, not waiting. “you should look out the window. The river is looking pretty amazing this morning.” I close the door and hurry to catch up to Cael. The hoarfrost on the branches of the trees is picturesque.

I wish I owned this house. I cannot imagine how much it would cost. I’m grateful to be here now.

Emily is expecting our 2nd, and I love being a Dad. Look at him, rushing along now 10 minutes late for school, not caring at all. I don’t know why I get frustrated with him if he doesn’t care.

If we get moving, I’ll have time to shovel Jacques walk next door and up to Clara’s. I caught up to Cael and asked him what was happening in school today.

“It’s library day Dadda” he answered matter o factly. “Well did you bring your library books?” I asked. “I don’t have any, can I play with Derek after school?” “I dunno kiddo, it’s pretty cold out. We’ll see.” “Love you Dad! Bye!” and off he goes…

I rush back and grab the shovel. Jacques has been sick, and I know Clara’s just getting old. She’s such a nice lady, be good to save her the trouble, and I think Jacque normally shovels her walk for her. She loves talking to Cael. Always has a cookie or treat for him.

What a coincidence for us to move in next door to another Jacques. I normally just use Jack instead of the French spelling and pronunciation. My mom was French and fancied Cartier, hence the name. Jacques next door is a great guy and I love chatting with him. Retired now. He has tea with Clara often, I hope he gets well soon.

What’s this, a black book in stuck between the boards of his fence?

The Black Book

My name is Jacques Arden. I live at 64 Sefton Rd in Calgary Alberta.

I have only recently decided to write a bit of a diary. It doesn’t matter who I am really, I’m just an old man that doesn’t have much any more. Although I married young in life, happily ever after was never in the cards. Decisions based in self over the years has had me fall on hard times more than once in my life. I can say I’ve lived a full life of experience, but I sure would have liked to have kids and grandkids.

I have a wish and I don’t know if what I seek to have happen will, but at least I can plant some seeds and hope the universe conspires to have them grow.

You see, I know something I shouldn’t. May Creator forgive me for being a bit nosey.

Clara, the neighbour two doors down has a soft spot for me. At the age of 78 she is not doing as well as she could be. I shovel her walks in winter and mow her lawns in the summer. She’s always trying to pay me, but it keeps me active and I like doing it. Makes me feel good to help. I’ve done alright for myself, but still just rent the same place I’ve been in going on 11 years now. You see people built these places in the 40’s and the city grew up over the last 60 + years. The folks that built along this river had their families and those children grew up and moved on. Some staying in Calgary, but many are all over the country. As their parents grew old, die, or go to long term care homes, their children now have these homes to sell or keep. It is a beautiful spot here along the river.

I was fortunate to stumble upon just this arrangement. A family friend of my mother, Mitchel Hawthorn had passed and his son, Tim who lives in Toronto, wanted to keep his childhood home. I was able to lease it until he decided to retire himself or sell it. I take care of the place well and he appreciates the effort I put into the place. When he’s in town he calls to ask if he can stay at ‘Hawthorn House’. He always brings a nice scotch. We drink in the library or on the front porch looking out at the river. We complain about the road noise masking the sound of the river beyond it, and he reminisces about his childhood. Hot summer days at the river when it was low.

I’ve asked Tim about the neighbours. The house to the west, between Clara and I have a young family with two boys 5 and 7 Oscar and Derek. Great kids. To my east side is another family, but they rent as well. Coincidently his name is Jacques as well. They’ve only been on the block a bit over a year, and just couldn’t afford the price tags for real estate inner city. The only affordable homes were in the burbs. As work was downtown, a reasonable lease compelled Jacques2 to make the reasonable choice of spending time with family. Instead of the two hours a day in commute time and grumpy attitude from the drive. It must be quality of life for you, Jacques2 doesn’t it?

Yes, I say YOU Jacques. I know you’ve found this book. And yes, I have left this world.

I want you to know how much I’ve appreciated how you’ve helped me over these last 6 months. Life is a funny thing.

Please keep shovelling Clara’s walk. And if you can find it in your heart to mow her lawn this summer, you will not be disappointed.

When you find this book, I will have passed. Do not be alarmed. The cancer was terminal, and it just needed to happen this way.

Quiet Old Woman

The traffic sounds wake her again and it’s cold, she turns the heat down every night. This city has grown so much. She fills the kettle every night before bed so she can turn it on first thing in the morning. The electric kettle has a blue light that turns on when the lever is pushed. Lighting up the dark counter. She had insisted that her old kettle was working fine, but her daughter Jamie had one like this and loved it, so a Christmas present was given. But she liked the old one and resented having this new fancy one. She went to her chair by the window and sat to wait for it to boil.

She spent much of her day in this old chair. Looking out the window to the street out front. Beyond which the river flowed. They had built this house in the 1944. She was 24 and her husband, a young foreman on the rigs, loved this river. He would go out and fish the deeper pooling water Sunday mornings.

She loved watching the kids walk by, going to school at the end of the block. Little Anne from up the street loves looking at Clara’s flowers. The girl tried to feed the resident squirrel, but he’s so well fed in Clara’s yard, he stays in the tree and chirps at her from a safe distance. She skips along to Derek’s house to walk him to school. Little Oscar only goes half days. Kindergarten this year, but he proudly tells Clara that he only goes half days ‘cuz he knows more than Derek, and that kindergarten is only for a bit to make sure he likes the teachers. “if I don’t’ like them, I’m going to a different school” Oscars says. A school for REALLY cool, smart kids.

Jamie had not given her any grandchildren. She didn’t believe in ‘adding to the population problem’. “Well this house was a place where kids can come!” Clara said to herself. Jacques would make sure of it. He loved the neighbourhood children too. Talking to them and asking Cael or Derek if they wanted to go fishing.

Yesterday Clara’s lawyer came by and finalized her Will. She knew Jacques didn’t have much, and he had spent so much time with her over the last few years.

“And to Jacques, I bequeath my house. The Jacques who shovels my walk.”

Jason Cluff