The first thing Robin ever gave me was a hand-drawn invitation to a Groundhog Day party. I still have it. I keep it with a bunch of other such items in a drawer back at the house in Gaspereau Forks.
There are photographs and artwork. Little notes. A few articles of clothing. A scarf that retains the trace of her scent, even after almost four years.
It’s usually the sign of a pretty dark night in the country if I find myself sliding open that drawer.
Last week when I moved to Montreal I left the contents of the drawer behind. Now I wish I had brought that invitation with me, I wish I could hold it in my hand.
I think back to the night she doodled it up. We were sitting at the bar at the Khyber Club.
I remember her phone number (431-LOOP), the illustration of little cartoon characters, and her charming handwriting with its mixture of capital letters and lowercase e’s.