Sunday, May 29, 2011

Dry Grass In May

The nights are non-existent. The light never truly disappears. Katie and I hopped between friends houses and drove home at two am in daylight. It screws me up royally. I don't sleep when I should and I wake up too early. My internal clock has gone haywire. The sun shines so brightly and warmly these days that when I step out from working for a minute and take a deep breath i can feel spring fill my lungs.

The temperature today is negative one, with a wind chill of negative eight. I know it doesn't compare to the twelve degree's that my family is feeling in Oakville but it is really a beautiful thing.

Roberts dad sold the skidoo because he and Robert's mom are moving down South come the end of summer. He kept the ATVs though so Robert and I took our first arctic ATV outing on Wednesday. Ironically the last time I drove one of these vehicles was in the tropics.

I wore rain boots, jeans, a couple shirts and a sweater... that's right, no coat. It was a gorgeous sunny day. We drove up to Upper Base and found a couple of smoking hot RCMP officers in the middle of target practise. The only thing that put a bigger smile on my face than they did was throwing my head back, closing my eyes and literally feeling the kiss of the sun on my face. Those will forever be the moments that I live for.

I imagine that moment to compare to the way it feels to get off a plane in my home town, scan the room for my family and catch them in my line of sight. There are nineteen days until this becomes my reality. I started my count down when my life looked so incredibly different. Every day I have been thrilled by the idea of going home, even if only for a few weeks.

Melvin who works in the deli said to me the other day, "They say you can never really go home." Later that day I got a message on my blackberry from my friend Kayla who had just landed in Ottawa for her vacation, the first thing she said to me was that it didn't feel like home anymore.

I haven't been able to shake the fear that the woman I have become wont be able to find her way home again. What if I am destined to live this sort of nomadic gypsy lifestyle? I am even scared to lay down in my old bed and find that its not as comfortable as I remember. I'm afraid the grass wont be as green as I remember and the birds wont sing as beautifully as I imagine. Its not just fear though, its terror really.

My count down has begun to feel a little bittersweet. Home is where the heart is but this heart has been divided and placed on opposite sides of the Country.


mom said...

Oh no!! You can't call it home...I'll miss you too much!!

Robert said...

I miss my skidoo now :(
I miss skidooing with you too!!