Parenting: Measuring our Influence

People come to parenting so many ways. Some choose it deliberately and with a great deal of passion. (Pardon the pun).

And that can be by the choice to have birth children or to adopt or foster.

Some fall into it by virtue of accidental sperm and egg unification and…

A passion for words and wine

I did not drink blood again after that long ago day when she said we should all be blood sisters. Seal our commitment to one another by the sharing of what ran through our veins. And we did. A small pocket knife made the incisions and the three of us…

And what community is to me…

My community is those who I can gather at a table with. Share a meal, a joke, some wisdom. Sometimes a mission in life. Not always agreeing. In fact, it’s a given we probably won’t. But we share something deeper.

Humans were not created to live an isolated existence. I’m…

But I didn’t kill Horace

I didn’t kill Horace. When I rolled the car, skated on thin ice, brought home the vicious dog.

But I confess, I stole a chocolate bar when I was six. Got in big trouble. My father was the Police Chief. Being a criminal was not allowed.

I didn’t kill Horace…

What was he thinking?

He had been watching her walk this route for weeks, the same way, every day. On the trip out she always had a boy with her. They walked close together, boy and woman. Usually talking, occasionally holding hands, or she would give the boy a rub on the shoulder. Sometimes…

Imagining a future where there would be a home filled with love

three shiny Christmas decorations hanging on a tree

At eight o’clock in the morning he took them to the car. He ran it for a few minutes, warming it from the chill December air while he hunched down, staring ahead. They sat in the back seat close together, sad. It was their first Christmas in this house, their…

Connection to birth family

eight cut out paper people laid out on a table

In the Bible there’s a story where King Solomon is asked to help make a decision. Two mothers come to him with a baby that they both lay claim to. The narrative goes that they both gave birth at the same time, in the same house but one of the…

Alone at last

A small building nested on a hill surrounded by trees

I have never lived alone. First there was my family. Loud, then sad, then quiet. But never alone

Then there was my group. Living in community. Dozens of us young people. Not allowed to be alone. Stay with the crowd. Disciplined for taking a walk in the woods. Instructed to…

Playground lessons

Jacob sat down on a bench. His son Elias ran over to the playground. Jacob took out his book. Decided to attempt to read. Although staring at his phone was easier he was trying really hard not to use it unless he needed to. …

With power to destroy

My shame is hidden behind a smile. Under the clothes that make me invisible

My shame lurks on quiet footsteps, paths where no one else will find me

My shame is in the way I do not talk unless spoken to; friendliness not to be interpreted as confidence kept in…

Catherine Dunn

old but not dead, mother, partner, grandmother, writer, Canadian Become a Medium member and support great writers like me.

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store