You're afraid of a nuclear bomb, I'm afraid for a nuclear family.

The postcard from Vegas was stuck to the fridge with the “Best Dad in the Whole World” magnet his son had gotten him for his birthday. He wasn’t feeling lucky. In fact, he was feeling very poor. He had just blown his raise in the casinos and wasn’t feeling much like lectures or workshops today. He barely had enough for postage. His children looked at the postcard every day wondering if there really was a city where people got to play games all day.

The picture of the Bloor-Yorkville Hotel is held on to the door by the “Wish You Were Here” magnet. The hotel had cost a pretty penny, but it had made the last family vacation. The children had loved the outdoor pool, and the parents loved the soft beds. The mother loved it so much, in fact, that she booked a weekend there with her lover. The children can’t wait to go back.

The youngest son’s Christmas wish list is pinned to the freezer with the “I’m Spoiled” magnet he got from his grandmother. The list is three pages long and he prides himself on his small handwriting. He didn’t include a price column. The parents think it’s because he can’t count that high.

The oldest son is featured in a newspaper clipping tacked to the fridge with a plastic clip that has a magnet on the back. The clip holds all the copies. The article is because he was in a car accident. The family’s friends have sent their prayers and acknowledgements. The parents replace the emptiness in their liquor cabinet.

The refrigerator door is running out of open space. All the pieces of a broken family conveniently cover a letter from the doctor’s office. It’s a pregnancy test. The mother hasn’t shown anybody else yet. On the back, girl’s names are scrawled and crossed out. Her lover wonders whether he needs a lawyer.