Free A Drop of Rain by Heather Kirk

to find work after forty. One is out of date. Then too you are a foreigner. Where are you from? Poland? You have been here only ten years. It is difficult for a foreigner to adjust to Canadian ways. One is out of step.”
    When the lump appeared, she was already a social activist. To herself she justified accepting welfare by actively contributing to the community. She worked with young people, especially students, teaching them to protest, teaching them that the system was wrong. One of her “adopted sons” was a poet. Another directed plays. She assured them that their activities were important.
    â€œExpressing true feelings is important,” she would tell them. “The single, dissenting voice is important. Pain is meaningful and must be described.”
    Hanna nursed her “adopted sons” as they died from AIDS. At the same time, she continued to help others: the dispossessed and betrayed. Eventually there was no division between herself and her vast, adopted family. For a while, she even lived among young drug addicts in a derelict building condemned for demolition. Strangely, no harm came to her. Or did it?
    After both of her “sons” died, her heart seemed to burst from her chest. When I took her to the hospital, the doctor showed me how the lump in Hanna’s breast had become a large open wound. The raw, diseased flesh looked like the heart itself emerging. Her own pain she had not described.

    I found the following scribbled note in one of Hanna’s boxes.
Analysis of Canadian Society
    -Blockage of the circulation of information.
    -Crude structure of society.
    -Alienation and dispossession of a great part of the population.
    -Socio-cultural underdevelopment and its consequences.
    -Negative selection process (the misfits and socially unacceptable).
    -Culture, art and literature exist apart from “real life.” The essential role of these elements is not recognized, and society cannot develop harmoniously and structure itself organically.

    I am looking forward to spending Saturday evening with Joe. I need to talk to him. I adore him. He is my rock.
Joe
    A weekend to myself, except for an evening with Eva on Saturday. Eva showed me some of the handwritten notes she has found among Hanna’s effects. She asked me if I thought Hanna was mentally ill.
    I had to say, yes, at some point Hanna lost her sanity. Latterly, in Montreal, Hanna did crack. But I reminded Eva of the old dictum, “In much madness, sense.”
    I said that Hanna had shown “impressive courage” in her life choices.
    I also said that I think Hanna is quite sane now.“Love has restored her,” I said. And Eva started crying.
    I told Eva that she herself needed a few days of complete rest. Then we watched some videos Eva wanted to see: two French Canadian films called
The Decline and Fall of the American Empire
, and
Jesus of Montreal
. They had English subtitles.
    Eva and I agreed that the films validate some of Hanna’s criticisms of Quebec society, and North American society.
    Before I took Eva home, I brewed her a pot of herbal tea to help her get a good night’s sleep.
    I drove aimlessly around the countryside Sunday afternoon, missing Eva, who spent a much needed day in bed. The boys have gone with Jill to visit her parents. I got some decent shots of a front moving through.
    Sunday evening I went through my unread book collection and spent a few hours with Joseph Campbell’s
Hero with a Thousand Faces
. Marked assignments Monday.

Week Six
Naomi
    Saturday, October 16, 1999
    I have been mopping this floor endlessly. I have mopped the entire area around the key desk, the entrance in front of the main reception desk, and the halls between. The mop is enormous. The bucket is enormous. My arms are hurting. My back is hurting. I’m almost finished mopping. Suddenly some kids from my school thunder past like a herd of retro Mickey Mouse Club rejects, tramping mud on my