I'm a kid from Sudbury with a lot of feelings, a lot of stories, and a whole future ahead of me. I don't have everything figured out yet. That's kind of the point.
My full name is William Ronald Webb-Squires. There's a lot packed into that name — two families, two stories, one me. I carry it proudly, even when it's a mouthful to spell out on the first day of school.
I live in Sudbury, Ontario, where the rocks are pink and the winters are real. There are lakes everywhere up here, and sometimes when I'm sitting by one of them I think about all the stories that must live at the bottom of them, frozen still. I want to write those stories someday.
I don't always have the right words for how I feel — not yet. But I'm working on it. That's what being a writer is, I think: practicing how to say the true thing, even when it's hard.
My grandfather's name is part of my name. William Ronald. That was his, and now it's mine too. I think about that sometimes — how a name can travel through time, passed from one person to another like something precious that nobody wants to drop.
He was 71 when he left. And I know that's not old enough. Not when there were still things to teach me. Not when I still needed to know him better. There are questions I never got to ask, and I carry those questions with me now.
But here's what I know: he was real. He was loved. He was mine. When I write my first book someday, his name will be somewhere in it. Not because I have to — because I want to.
Family isn't always simple. Mine sure isn't. But the people below? They're mine, and I'm theirs, and that's what matters. At the centre of all of it is my mom, Sarah — the person who holds everything together even when it's hard.
My dad is Ronald William Squires. And the thing I know — really know, deep down where it counts — is that he will always be there for me. No matter what happens. No matter how complicated life gets. He's in my corner. Full stop.
There's something about having a person like that. Someone who doesn't make you earn their love or prove yourself every time. They just love you. Consistently. Reliably. Like gravity. You don't have to think about it — it's just always there.
We have our moments, like any father and son. Life is messy and big and sometimes hard to understand. But when I look at what I have with my dad, what I see is: he shows up. He's present. He's mine. And I'm his. That's worth more than I have words for right now. Maybe I'll write those words someday. That's kind of the plan.
I'm a kid from Sudbury. I know what people might assume when they hear that. But I don't think where you're from limits where you can go. I think it just means you carry a different kind of story with you. Here's where I'm going.
