Heather Down
Bio
I am an observer of life through the lens of middle age. Owner of an independent publishing house and a published author, I spend my time obsessing about all things communication. Follow me at Wintertickle Press.
Stories (58/0)
Love Letters from Heather
Dear Steve, I was 11 years into my career when I put in for a transfer from a tiny rural school just outside Alliston to join forces at the brand-new educational establishment in Alcona. The idea of being part of something fresh and exciting piqued my interest.
By Heather Down3 years ago in Humans
Love Letters from Heather
To my grade 9 and 10 English teacher, Mrs. Cheeseman. You are small in stature but large on impact. I can still hear the commanding click of your high heels as your tiny frame scurried about the classroom with short, quick steps turning over: clack, clack, clack in rapid succession. You were originally from Hawaii, I believe. Japanese descent.
By Heather Down3 years ago in Education
Love Letters from Heather
Dear Dad, I gained a much fuller appreciation of you in 2018 when I asked point blank questions about your upbringing in order to glean a story for the anthology Brainstorm Revolution Wintertickle Press was publishing. You were 88 years old at the time and still chopping trees, cutting grass, shovelling driveways, checking Facebook—all things you might consider mundane, but things I think impressive!
By Heather Down3 years ago in Families
Love Letters from Heather
To the woman I yelled at in the Zehrs parking lot two weeks ago. You are what common vernacular often refers to as a “life lesson.” You irritated me the second I walked in the grocery store behind you, seeing your mask tucked neatly below your nose. It was a half-effort at best. I snarled and whispered, “Look, she doesn’t have that on her face, really.”
By Heather Down3 years ago in Humans
Love Letters from Heather
To the guy I met in Chicago’s Criminal Court whose name I have long forgotten. When I was 12, my mother and I went apple picking on a crisp fall day. On the drive back home, apple in hand, my eardrums were jolted by the sound of smashing glass. I felt the lurch as my body pressed mercilessly against the seatbelt. While my mother was busy trying to right the car and keep it from rolling, I was engaged in staring straight ahead at a tree that seemed to be getting far too close far too quickly.
By Heather Down3 years ago in Humans
Love Letters from Heather
To my middle child, Candice. Hey, Red! I remember the second I set eyes on you. You were just the cutest seven-year-old ever—your perfect tone of red/auburn hair, your incredible smile, and your intelligent eyes. Your foster mother gave you the nickname “Grandma” because even at such a young age, you were looking after your siblings.
By Heather Down3 years ago in Families
Love Letters from Heather
To my former student, Brady. I know you will not read this. However, I feel compelled to write it anyway. You know when teachers say they don’t have favourite students? They are lying. I can say that now because I can no longer be fired since I quit teaching 18 years ago. Although professional and held to a high standard, teachers will outwardly be fair and friendly to all students. But, underneath it all, they are people. People who day in and day out are dealing with other people. And due to an incomprehensible algorithm created unconsciously by our personalities—people are drawn to certain others naturally.
By Heather Down3 years ago in Psyche
Love Letters from Heather
To my oldest brother, David, For some, it would be handy to have a lawyer for a brother. Sadly, I am one of those people. So I will start this letter by commending you on your career choice. It has helped me and one or two of my kids out of a pickle more than once.
By Heather Down3 years ago in Families