Ce matin tr\u00e8s t\u00f4t, Morph\u00e9e tirait sur ma douillette pour me r\u00e9veiller. Il avait une id\u00e9e g\u00e9niale \u00e0 me transmettre; une fable concernant une grenouille savante qui voulait devenir aussi grosse qu\u2019un b\u0153uf. Morph\u00e9e voulait savoir si j\u2019\u00e9tais capable de raconter cette histoire.<\/p>\n
\u2014\u00a0\u00ab\u00a0Je peux certainement essayer\u00a0\u00bb, que je r\u00e9ponds au c\u00e9l\u00e8bre Dieu du sommeil. \u00ab\u00a0Allume quelques r\u00e9verb\u00e8res, car il fait encore nuit et je cherche mes pantoufles.\u00a0\u00bb Je me l\u00e8ve, m\u2019habille, m\u2019installe sur la table de cuisine et j\u2019essaie d\u2019ouvrir mon iPad. \u00c9trangement, le clavier refuse de bouger. Dormirait-il encore? Je pitonne, je frappe, je d\u00e9sesp\u00e8re et je me coule un deuxi\u00e8me caf\u00e9. Chaque fois qu\u2019il m\u2019arrive un probl\u00e8me avec l\u2019iPad, mon c\u0153ur arr\u00eate de battre. Je paralyse. J\u2019ignore totalement comment fonctionnent les machines que j\u2019utilise pour vous \u00e9crire.<\/p>\n
J\u2019ai peut-\u00eatre une t\u00eate regorgeante d\u2019id\u00e9es, mais je suis une imb\u00e9cile heureuse qui finit toujours par trouver quelqu\u2019un pour l\u2019aider. Entretemps, je d\u00e9sesp\u00e8re. J\u2019ai peur de perdre mon id\u00e9e, peur que l\u2019iPad soit bris\u00e9, peur que disparaissent mes pr\u00e9cieux \u00e9crits.<\/p>\n
Je pitonne, pitonne \u00e0 droite, pitonne \u00e0 gauche et bousille toutes les fonctions du clavier. J\u2019ai envie de pleurer. Dehors, la clart\u00e9 se l\u00e8ve \u00e0 peine et je d\u00e9cide de me rendre au caf\u00e9. Je range l\u2019iPad et mes feuillets de notes dans ma grande sacoche, attrape mes cl\u00e9s de voiture et essaie de me comporter comme si tout allait bien. Le temps est si doux que les bancs de neige fondent \u00e0 vue d\u2019\u0153il.<\/p>\n
Arrivant au caf\u00e9, j\u2019accroche un sourire \u00e0 ma bouille. Je m\u2019installe \u00e0 ma table habituelle juste \u00e0 c\u00f4t\u00e9 d\u2019un nouveau jeune homme que je vois pour la premi\u00e8re fois. Front d\u00e9gag\u00e9, col roul\u00e9 bleu et vareuse de toile anthracite, l\u2019\u00e9tranger semble sortir tout droit d\u2019un roman de Charles\u00a0Dickens. Oui, oui! J\u2019ose \u00e0 peine le regarder du coin de l\u2019\u0153il. Puis, j\u2019insiste. Il m\u2019a pourtant l\u2019air d\u2019un jeune homme d\u2019aujourd\u2019hui f\u00e9ru d\u2019informatique. Mais comment l\u2019aborder? Je ne suis qu\u2019une totale \u00e9trang\u00e8re pour lui; qui plus est, une vieillotte d\u00e9sempar\u00e9e avec un iPad bris\u00e9 dans ses mains.<\/p>\n
Le caf\u00e9 est presque vide. Je suppose que la temp\u00e9rature trop cl\u00e9mente emp\u00eache les habitu\u00e9s de s\u2019y engouffrer. Me voici presque seule avec cet Oliver\u00a0Twist des temps modernes. Prenant mon courage \u00e0 quatre mains, je lui adresse la parole.
\n\u2014\u00a0Vous \u00eates nouveau? Aimez-vous l\u2019endroit?
\n\u2014\u00a0Je viens d\u2019emm\u00e9nager tout pr\u00e8s d\u2019ici, dans un condo industriel.
\n\u2014\u00a0Ha oui! Et qu\u2019allez-vous faire dans ce condo industriel? Y loger?<\/p>\n
\u2014\u00a0Deux amis et moi avons fond\u00e9 une entreprise de services informatiques.
\n\u2014\u00a0WOW! C\u2019est super. J\u2019ai justement mon iPad ici pr\u00e9sent qui refuse de travailler ce matin.
\n\u2014\u00a0Vous travaillez, madame?
\n\u2014\u00a0Non, je m\u2019amuse \u00e0 \u00e9crire des histoires.<\/p>\n
Et voil\u00e0 que le jeune homme tend sa main vers ma table et s\u2019empare de mon iPad. Il l\u2019ouvre, caresse le clavier, pitonne ici et l\u00e0 quelques instants et me le rend avec un grand sourire.
\n\u2014\u00a0L\u2019appareil n\u2019est pas bris\u00e9, madame.<\/p>\n
Je jubile. Je l\u2019ouvre et constate que la grenouille savante qui veut devenir aussi grosse qu\u2019un b\u0153uf est toujours l\u00e0, dans le d\u00e9but de cette page.
\n\u2014\u00a0Merci tellement, jeune homme.<\/p>\n
Et l\u2019homme de me remettre une jolie carte professionnelle avec adresse, courriel et num\u00e9ro de portable.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
J\u2019aime les petites grenouilles et je n\u2019ambitionne pas de devenir aussi populaire que mes h\u00e9ros\u00a0qu\u00e9b\u00e9cois : Robert\u00a0Lalonde, Heather O\u2019Neill ou David\u00a0Goudreault. Je veux juste \u00eatre moi-m\u00eame, am\u00e9liorant de jour en jour mes griffures d\u2019\u00e9criture.<\/p>\n
J\u2019ai souvent la vision d\u2019un horizon ensemenc\u00e9. Aurai-je assez de temps pour que la gr\u00e2ce m\u2019enserre, pour qu\u2019une \u0153uvre sorte de terre?<\/p>\n
Cora
\n\ud83d\udc38\ud83d\udc02<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Ce matin tr\u00e8s t\u00f4t, Morph\u00e9e tirait sur ma douillette pour me r\u00e9veiller. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":414,"featured_media":21687,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[32],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-21673","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-lettre-mme-cora"],"acf":{"img_en":"","contenu_en":"Early this morning, Morpheus was tugging on my bedspread to wake me out of my slumber. He had a brilliant idea to share with me: a fable about a clever frog who wanted to become as big as a bull. Morpheus wanted to know if I was capable of telling such a tale.\r\n\r\n\u201cI can certainly try,\u201d I replied to the god of sleep. \u201cLight a few street lights because it\u2019s still dark outside and I\u2019m looking for my slippers,\u201d I tell him. I get up, dress and sit at the kitchen table as I try to turn on my iPad. Oddly enough, the keypad refuses to budge. Is it still in Morpheus\u2019 arms? I touch the screen, I hit the keys. I am getting desperate, so I pour myself a second cup of coffee. Every time I have a problem with my iPad, my heart stops beating. I become paralyzed. I know nothing about how these writing machines work.\r\n\r\nI might have a mind brimming with ideas, but I\u2019m a happy dimwit who always ends up finding someone to help. Right now, however, desperation is taking hold of me. I am worried I will lose my idea, worried my tablet might be broken, afraid my precious writing will disappear.\r\n\r\nI press here, I press there. I hit all the function keys. It\u2019s all for nothing. I want to cry. Outside, dawn is barely breaking and I decide to make my way to the coffee shop. I tuck my iPad and notepad in my big purse, grab my car keys and try to behave as if everything will be fine. The weather has turned nice and the snowbanks are finally melting.\r\n\r\nWhen I walk into the coffee shop, I force a smile. I sit at my usual table right next to a young man I have never seen before. He has a handsome face and is wearing a blue turtleneck and dark grey canvas jacket. The stranger appears to be straight out of a Charles Dickens novel. You should have seen him! I dare to glance at him quickly from the corner of my eye. And then I take a better look. He appears to be a typical young man who knows his way around computers. But how do I strike up a conversation? I am nothing more than a complete stranger to him. Worse, I\u2019m a distraught old woman with a broken iPad in her hands.\r\n\r\nThe caf\u00e9 is almost empty. I guess the mild weather means the regulars have better things to do. I\u2019m almost alone with this modern Oliver Twist. I muster all my courage and start a conversation.\r\n\u2014 \u201cAre you new here? Do you like this place?\u201d\r\n\u2014 \u201cI just moved very close to here, in an industrial condo.\u201d\r\n\u2014 \u201cOh, really! And what will you do in this industrial condo? Will you live there?\u201d\r\n\u2014 \u201cTwo friends and I have just started a business, an IT services company.\u201d\r\n\u2014 \u201cOh, that\u2019s great! Coincidentally, I have my iPad here that refuses to work this morning.\u201d\r\n\u2014 \u201cAre you working, ma\u2019am?\u201d\r\n\u2014 \u201cActually, I amuse myself by writing stories.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe young man extends his hand towards my table and takes my tablet. He turns it on, his fingers hovering over the keys. He taps a few times here and there, and just a few short moments later, he hands it back to me with a big smile.\r\n\r\n\u2014 \u201cThe device isn\u2019t broken, ma\u2019am.\u201d\r\n\r\nI am beside myself. I turn it on and notice that the clever frog who wants to become as big as a bull is still there at the top of my page.\r\n\u2014 \u201cThank you so much, young man!\u201d\r\n\r\nThe gentleman gives me a fancy business card with his address, email and cell phone number on it.\r\n\r\nI love small frogs and I don\u2019t aim to become as popular as my Canadian heroes Heather O\u2019Neill, Margaret Atwood and Leonard Cohen. I just want to be myself and improve my scribbling a little more each day.\r\n\r\nA vision of a horizon that has been newly sown comes to me often. Will I have enough time for grace to embrace me, for a work of art to emerge from the ground?\r\n\r\nCora\r\n\ud83d\udc38\ud83d\udc02"},"yoast_head":"\n