Yesterday, while driving down Concession Street, I saw a man using a pay phone on the outside of a convenience store. He was wearing jeans and a black sweater with the hood pulled over his head. He was leaning nonchalantly against the booth, the cord hanging down. It seemed so normal, yet so ancient. It was like a photograph. I don't know why it made me so happy.

Buying jeans that are already broken in is my favourite. They are obviously worn. They are not just like new - all stiff and dark. They are softer, and already comfortable. They are a little frayed at the hem around the back. They were once loved by someone else, and they are now mine to enjoy.

One thing I am coming to love about this work is spending time in other people's homes. Not just for births, as only a small fraction of our births occur at home. But for prenatal visits if she is planning a home birth. To scope out the place, to anticipate and plan for the big day. And for home visits for every client after the baby is born. I love seeing where she lives, what her home is like. I prefer the feel of being on the woman's turf, in her own environment, where she is most comfortable. It's lovely.

Sometimes when I need to go to the clinic outside of office hours, I feel like I'm breaking in and sneaking around. Even though I have keys to the building and a code to turn off the alarm. I feel like I'm stealing when I stock up on gloves or other supplies, or pick up a chart on the way to a birth. No one else is around, the lights are off, it's very quiet.