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	Zero Storm One Common Drama Two for One Three Pivotal Years Four Generations Five Ring Circus
	Outside, a freak storm that ushered in the New Year departs in the same manner it imposed itself upon us. It was not a thunderous event, but a slow, subtle one. Rain and drizzle drifted from the sky. Yet, upon landing, it all turned to ice; five days of quiet, weighty and continuous injuries. Injuries that everyone knows will not heal easily. We also know that other wounds will surface; it will be remembered for a very long time. The obscene television images, that show the half of Quebec which remained without power for a week to the fortunate half, did not reach all the privileged ones. Hospitals are islands of information fortune; their priority for power supply gives those who live there ways of knowing what is going on. Bernadette experiences the event, she is conscious of it. Yet, she has no real awareness of it. Television, radio and newspapers have lost their meaning. She only really knows what the hospital staff are going through - finding a place to stay for Lord knows how long. Having lost her desire to walk, Bernadette can only look up to the sky. And for five days, she could only see rain. Just like a four-year old who sees nice billowy clouds over the garden, yet remains unaware of the storm clouds arriving from the other side of the house that will put a damper on fun very shortly. Simply because she cannot see more than what the window has to offer. * * * * * * * * * Today, Bernadette is calm. She has been calm since she accepted the inevitable; she surrendered to her cancers. The storm is pointless; this is another world. Waiting. I wait. She waits. We wait. Waiting in silence, without admitting it, without keeping track of time, without any measurements. We are there, not knowing what to say, not knowing how to say it. Yet we know very well... The first time, I missed the cue. But on the second occasion, it was all very clear. Yet I stalled - on second thought, I had better kept quiet. The third time my mother took a deep breath, staccato yet deep and determined, I know she wanted to break out of some silence. I had to help her out. I leaned over attentively and asked: "Yes? Is there something you wish to say? Anything you want to clear up?" In my mind, it could have beem something important or, just as likely, insignificant. She props up her head with her left hand, she makes herself comfortable. She stares straight up, slightly to her right. But after a long pause, her chin forces her bottom lip into a curl. Finally, breaking the tense silence: "Oh... there is so much..." And more silence... like that which replaces the storm. The issue is closed. Pushing it would be in bad taste. Anything insignificant, I could handle quite well. If she wants to raise major personal issues, then only she can decide how to deal with it. Thus silence takes over. Effortlessly.