by Linda Hoye
It’s winter now. On some days the snow falls like feathers, on others it glistens like diamonds in the late-winter sun. Today, the sun shines bright, tricking me into thinking it’s warmer out there than it really is. From the sanctuary of my woman cave, where the hum of the heater and the clicking of my camera shutter are the only sounds, I look out over the back yard where fairy dust glistens in the frigid afternoon air.
I’m shooting Gerbera daisies. Life’s been busy since I brought them home a few days ago and they’re starting to fade; I haven’t had an opportunity to capture any photos of them yet. Today’s the day.
As I work, this blog is in the back of my mind. I’m remembering another day, eight years ago in a different season and a different country, when a different me sat swaying in a lawn swing on a sultry summer afternoon reading the stories of women’s lives and a vision for One Woman’s Day was conceived.
I shift position and change camera settings and imagine women going about their day not knowing that everything will change before the sun goes down; and others, who will come to the end of it filled with gratitude and peace and an expectation for what comes next. I wonder which way it will turn out for me. I wonder if someone will write a story about this very day.
Somewhere, a woman is sitting at a desk, or curled up under a quilt, or sitting on a beach, playing with words and crafting the sweet complexity of her story—a generous gift for another who will be touched by the telling in the future. That’s what One Woman’s Day is all about.
Satisfied that I’ve taken enough photos for now, I return to my desk and pop the camera card into the slot in my laptop. While the photos are downloading I glance over at my second screen where One Woman’s Day is up and reach for my mouse. I scroll down the list of contributor names and think about the women I’ve had the privilege of meeting in real life, and others I’ve met only through their words that have touched my heart.
Images of Gerbera daisies come up on my main screen and, for now, I turn my attention to the story I’m telling there.
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What an honour it has been for me to coordinate this space all these years. These stories have touched me and reminded me of all that we have in common, regardless of how different our lives appear on the outside.
Today I hand the One Woman’s Day Coordinator baton to Kali’ Rourke: grateful for her willingness, knowing she will add her own unique flair to this space. Please join me in giving Kali’ the warmest of welcomes.
Linda Hoye is on the other side of a twenty-five-year corporate career. A writer, photographer, gardener, and somewhat-fanatical grandma, she lives in Kamloops, British Columbia with her husband and their doted-upon Yorkshire Terrier. Find her online, where she posts a few words and a photograph early every morning, at http://www.lindahoye.com.