if the past two years have been a cavalcade of emotions then these past eight weeks have been an epic turn-me-upside-down of anxious anticipation.
why the high-strung, i can’t breathe, nervousness? because i am going home.
from down under to up over i’m going back to my roots … to fond familiarity, the comfort of childhood and the contagious laughter of my sisters. i’m returning to the great white north where once i felt unsure about myself, suffocated by lost ways and insular to the beauty that actually filled up that space.
living objectively in a land where i had to thrive, break any sense of isolation and reassert myself in this mad, crazy world has embedded a serene appreciation for the people and things that carried be through the first two and half decades of my life. when i boarded that plane, left toronto, admittedly, i was naive and confused. i was weighed down and fearful of fulfillment … content with just existing. but now, there is this humble confidence that has been bestowed upon me and i’m overly joyed in returning to those that know me best to show them the woman who i’ve grown to be – the character that i am still forming , the life that i am still shaping.
australia has allotted me an innocent landscape to explore myself to the fullest but home is where it all started and will continue. although my journey is perpetually ongoing this trip home is a culmination of deep soul-searching, sentimental exchanges and exposure of honesty that otherwise would have perhaps remained buried … festering within, which we all know is no way to spend a gorgeous day on this planet.
so, i’m combusting. combusting to play in the flurries, frock up in my winter’s best, stroll the tundra streets and think wonderlessly alongside a log-burning fire. i’m combusting to sit with my mother in the morning with a cup of coffee, watch a movie with my father while he falls asleep, talking aloud with my grandmothers instead of written letters, learn how to skate with my niece and gush over how lovely my sisters are. i’m combusting to celebrate happy matrimonii and sing lullabies to new babies. i’m combusting to dance front row with the local rockstars, listen to my friends tales with interest and intrigue and sip cider with my lovelies. i’m combusting to smell the smell of pine trees, hear the crunch of the snow and dine with the lumberjacks. i’m combusting to say ‘eh’ instead of ‘hey’, ‘aboot’ in stead of ‘about’. i’m combusting to hear the country twang and take refuge in a rural haven. i’m combusting to stroll down king st and stop at victoria hall and visit the land of the vikings, reminiscent of the blue and gold. i’m combusting to snack on a beavertail and booze in the byward. i’m combusting to see the city of concrete through a more mature, cultured lens. i’m combusting to eat cheese with those that never thought they’d see the day and cook for those that spent so many years catering to me. i’m combusting to just stand there, take it all in and meet everyone again. and for some perhaps introducing my self – my true self – for the first time. not as a stranger, but as flourished daughter, sister and friend.
i’m combusting … to go home. to say hello. to say thank you … to give my love … to do it all over again.