HER STORY

I heard someone recently say they weren’t trying to reinvent themselves in this new chapter of life, but rather to "reveal" a part of themselves that had been put away. That stayed with me. Sole Sisters has been doing that for me since the early days — helping me reconnect with women, with community, and with myself.

What happens when you pick up a pair of drumsticks for the very first time at age 58? In this heartfelt reflection, Saskatchewan-based pipe band drummer Linda Kraft shares her journey of learning a new skill later in life. From finding the right teacher and band to overcoming self-doubt and embracing new challenges, Linda's story is a powerful reminder that it's never too late to pursue a passion and discover what you're capable of.

There are moments in life when the path beneath you shifts without warning—when everything you thought was certain suddenly isn’t. In The Brain Tumour That Saved Me, Paula reflects on the unexpected turns that reshaped her life. Honest, raw, and ultimately hopeful, her story is a reminder that even the paths we never choose can lead us somewhere meaningful.

This poem lives in that disorienting space between hearing and understanding, between impact and meaning, where language has the power to wound and reshape at the same time.

Birds are everywhere. In cities, on trails, by the water, in your own backyard. Noticing them creates a thread that ties all these places together. No matter where I am in the world—whether I’m walking familiar paths at home or exploring somewhere new—there’s a comfort in that continuity.

Every pair of boots tells a story—and Judy’s are filled with miles of adventure, resilience, and quiet transformation. From forest trails to life’s turning points, this is a reflection on where we’ve been, what we’ve carried, and how far we’ve come.

On April 30, the thought of me walking 22 km in a single day would have been laughable.
On May 1, 2020, I woke up and started walking with real intention. As long as my body allows, I’ll be unstoppable.

I’m the woman who loves breathing in fresh mountain air and pushing myself up the hardest, dirtiest trail. And I’m also the woman who wants to dress up in something pretty when I go out. I’m both. I always have been. I’m just no longer hiding it.

Life, in its unpredictability, has a way of clouding the obvious. Responsibilities accumulate. Emotional burdens settle quietly onto our shoulders. And before we realize it, we are moving through our days more out of obligation than wonder.

What happens when you step outside your comfort zone and keep going, one step at a time? Bonnie Boucher reflects on the strength, connection, and unexpected clarity she discovered on the Camino.

This poem was my expression of love and longing for those who are no longer with me.  I felt such deep sorrow and angst within my grief. And then finally coming to the other side of it, waking up to the gift that life is.

There is also a tenderness to curiosity in midlife. I find myself gentler with complexity. Less eager to label, more willing to sit in uncertainty. I don’t need the world to be tidy anymore. I just want it to be interesting.

I am honoured to share a poem inspired by the quiet power and steady presence of Mount Diablo State Park here in Clayton, California. Though not towering by alpine standards, this 4,000-foot “mountain” holds deep significance for me—an anchor in both the landscape and my life.

I’m a one-off volunteer—or at least that’s what I prefer for the most part. I always thought volunteering meant committing to monthly board meetings or regular shifts at the hospital, care home, or with local organizations. But I don’t want to commit because I want to be free to ramble, sleep in, or… well, you get the idea.

Sisterhood has shown up for me in every season of life—through grief, uncertainty, laughter, and growth. It has steadied me, carried me, and reminded me that I was never meant to do life alone.

If there is one thing I know now, it is this: there is no single path to becoming who we are meant to be. Sometimes the long way around is not a delay at all—but the very road that makes us ready.

Pickleball doesn’t care about your age, your hair colour, your job title, or what stage of life you’re in. It just asks that you show up. And when you do, something magical happens. Your mind silences. The mental chatter fades. The to-do lists, the worries, the grief, the “what-ifs”… all gone, replaced by one simple job: don’t miss the ball.

I often tell people that in Central Australia, I’m your Kapi Kunga — the one who brings the rain, thunder, and lightning when you visit. I’m a tour guide and driver in the Red Centre, and I genuinely love sharing this astonishing place with people from all over the world.

What I’ve learned is that blended families live in the space between choice and circumstance. We don’t choose how we begin, but we often choose how we continue. Over time, we build something that is part inherited, part earned.

I spent some time exploring a range of options, yet nothing fired my dopamine-seeking brain. Whenever I felt frustrated, I turned to maps and went out exploring. Over time, I began to realise that the answer lay somewhere in the woods, fields, and beaches I wandered.

After fifty years of always being someone’s other half, I’m learning to just be Robin. Not half of anything. Not smaller to make space for someone else. Just me — sensitive, strong, still learning, still here. And for the first time, that feels like enough.