I still have the shoes and the skirt. I don’t know who took the photo. My cousin found it on some random website where someone had written nonsense accompanying the photo – they imagined this woman (me!) was waiting for her lover who never came and then she was v v VERY sad. Lols. Lullllllls.

Like a 12-year old’s idea of romance needs to be painful, and traumatic for it to have meaning? GTFO here already.

When she found it and shared it, I lied and said that was a pen in my mouth. My family collectively rolled their eyes and I stuck to my guns.

This would have been taken around 15 or 20 years ago, so digital wouldn’t have been a thing just yet. This person took the photo and then had it printed, and scanned and uploaded. The low quality confirms the 37 steps required for me to share this today. (I am grateful, however, for how sharply my heels are showing.)

This photo still reflects an important habit of self-care for me – I like to be alone in coffee shops so I might write. Since Cafe Wim was on Sussex and I was a teenager, I’d take the bus downtown just to sit at the window having coffee and samosas, while spilling secrets into either my journal or into letters to friends. Again, both things I still do today.

It’s one of my absolute favourite things to do; solitude, reflection, eyes and heart open to everything around me. It’s one of the spaces in which I tend to my heart. And, it continues to be how I’ve met most boyfriends – coffee shops, demonstrations, through friends. In that order.

Self-care on all levels, really.

I’m flattered someone thought I made a good portrait, and took the time to get it online years later. I’m grateful my cousin found it. I’m happy that one of my best habits is still routine.

How do you keep your heart, friend?

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