Poem: Highway One
Written June 10, 2017
There is nothing ordinary about this.
We are on our way along Highway One
through the Fraser Canyon.
My Mom and Dad, sister, and Grandpa
going up to Fraser Lake for Thanksgiving.
It is a rare thing traveling up this way.
I start to know the order of the towns:
Yale, Spuzzum, Boston Bar.
Out the car window I see
the rock gorges sloping down to
the fast flowing river that eventually narrows.
Train tunnels and train tracks built
up high into the mountain far above the road.
In fact the only mundane thing was
the pancakes that I ordered at the
roadside cafe we pulled into.
They were thin and tasted mostly like the
mix itself, but still the excuse to
eat in a restaurant made it worth while
and I liked the smell of the coffee
everyone was drinking.
It wasn’t until we stood in the parking lot
that we decided someone should take
a picture by the Fraser River.
It was a little cool that morning.
In the hurry to have the picture taken
and get back on the road
my sister borrowed my grandpa’s jacket
and stood beside Dad on the riverbank.
Later up at Fraser Lake,
when my cousin showed me
inside the small chicken house
I reached out and picked up the
still warm egg off the straw
after the hen had got up and wandered off.
I thought how this was different.
By the river I liked being on the outside,
witnessing them standing by the river
watching my grandpa press
the button on the camera.
by Wendy Stewart