By Leo Fenton Blazeka
In all of Toronto, your favourite place was always Grampa's basement. Your mother studied hard every day for her university courses and your father was a deadbeat; you were always alone. But in Grampa's basement, after the same meal of chicken and rice (which he cooked everyday because you were the pickiest eater), you were immersed in your fantasies.
You could never be alone whilst creating that which you loved. Writing on his old, annoying computer was the most fun you could ever have. He would check on you, of course, and you'd read him a few chapters. He loved watching you write and, well, you loved to write.
He showed you endless love and never gave you any kind of idea that you couldn't follow your dreams. He fully supported your aspirations to become an author even at only age three. He fed you the chicken and the rice - "a meal fit for a pro author." He saved all your stories and loved you to death.
You miss him so dearly with everyday in Ottawa but you always know when you visit... Grampa chicken will be waiting.
To this day, your best projects come out after being filled with the lovingly cooked chicken and rice. It reminds you of childhood, of Toronto, of hope. The love in that meal makes your art flow and your heart beam. You write with Grampa in your mind, always, for he nurtured your talent and fed you with care.
In all of Toronto, your favourite place was always Grampa's basement. Your mother studied hard every day for her university courses and your father was a deadbeat; you were always alone. But in Grampa's basement, after the same meal of chicken and rice (which he cooked everyday because you were the pickiest eater), you were immersed in your fantasies.
You could never be alone whilst creating that which you loved. Writing on his old, annoying computer was the most fun you could ever have. He would check on you, of course, and you'd read him a few chapters. He loved watching you write and, well, you loved to write.
He showed you endless love and never gave you any kind of idea that you couldn't follow your dreams. He fully supported your aspirations to become an author even at only age three. He fed you the chicken and the rice - "a meal fit for a pro author." He saved all your stories and loved you to death.
You miss him so dearly with everyday in Ottawa but you always know when you visit... Grampa chicken will be waiting.
To this day, your best projects come out after being filled with the lovingly cooked chicken and rice. It reminds you of childhood, of Toronto, of hope. The love in that meal makes your art flow and your heart beam. You write with Grampa in your mind, always, for he nurtured your talent and fed you with care.
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