Christina Strigas


Every day I take the same drive. I drop off my daughter, Maria, at school and come back over the three hundred meter bridge that separates Montreal from Laval. 


    I never thought of killing myself before.


    Yet, in that instant, in this dead season, with the cold on the frosty windows and the sun hiding, these images of my car in the white, virgin river popped into my head. It was a split scary second. There was a song on the radio and I glanced at myself in the rear-view window. 


    What the hell is wrong with you? I said to my dull reflection. The Rolling Stones’ Missing You was playing on satellite and all I could think about is what my friends and family would say if I killed myself.


    Odd thoughts of what would happen to my kids if I suddenly died of a rare disease.  My funeral, my life in pictures.  


   What would happen to my books? My writing, my journals, my social media. No one knew the passwords, no one understood how to use my accounts, but me. My sleek black Chrysler with a camera would be no longer mine. Who cares about these things when you are dead?


   I drove on, clinging onto my steering wheel; getting closer to home and passing the usual shops and intersections, not concentrating on the road at all. I suppose I was practicing mindfulness about my death. 


   Visions of how my family would survive without me plagued me. Maria would be scarred and lost; John would seek out a mother figure and my husband would mourn me, but never remarry.


    I parked my car in the driveway. I wanted to live my life not watch it flash before my eyes. I locked my car door, grabbed my keys and purse. 


     I needed to write a poem. 



Christina Strigas’s work has appeared in Montreal Writes, Feminine Collective, Neon Mariposa Magazine, Pink Plastic House Journal, BlazeVOX, Thimble Lit Magazine, Twist in Time Literary Magazine, The Temz Review, and Coffin Bell Journal. She teaches ESL to adults at McGill University, and French at a public elementary school for The Sir Wilfred Laurier School Board. She lives in Montreal, with her husband and two children. She writes novels for The Wild Rose Press.