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Do you ever have that compulsion to just go to another country where life and success have a different meaning? I sure do… I have a few friends in Mexico, Greece, and Australia (from my insignificant travels, and from school), and boy-howdy, are their lives ever different. They have fun, they swim in the ocean, they leave a job if they don’t like it. I have friends from Mexico, and it’s a difficult adjustment, I think, to all of a sudden govern your life according to N.A ways. I always kind of wish that I had the guts to just pick up my stuff, and go. I almost didn’t come home, after being in Greece… I still want to go back and re-make the decision…
My sister is brave. My sister is a crazy person. My sister ran away from home when I was in grade 9, which places her at the ripe old age of 13, at the time. She made it from Kamloops to Edmonton – apparently she, and her friend had convinced a trucker to take them there. My sister hasn’t really ever had a home. She’s been the gypsy of the family. When we were kids, she would steal my dolls and run away. I don’t know if she knows how much I love her.
I’ve never been a girlie person; I’ve never got the whole shopping thing, or makeup, or barbies – maybe we could have both been girlie girls, except it turned out that I was a Tom Huck kind of character, and my sister is a gypsy.. we came from the same family, but we have two entirely different worlds. Our orbits don’t overlap very often, and when they do, it’s uncomfortable. We hedge and hodge, and make small-talk. And I never say to her “Do you know that I love you?”…
I was much more free in my youth. I was a wanderer. I was a loner. I had a “hidey spot” in my parent’s garage’s crawl-space, which held a shoebox full of mushrooms, Archie comics, and rocks that were interesting to me. I was Huck Finn. I had craved a companion, a dog, since before I could remember – I wanted to communicate in clicks and whistles, and when my first dog arrived, I unearthed a level of love I didn’t know I was capable of.
My favourite pleasure was to climb up into an apple tree sometime in September, and sit, and read, and pluck apples, one by one, as my book progressed; hidden by leaves, which, between August and October, changed in density and hue. Second to being solitary was to pick a canvas bag full of apples and hand them, one by one, to the Mountie’s horses, which I used to ride, bare-backed, along the river, with my dog chasing after us. Once, I offered a horse a Ketchup Old Dutch chip, and the memory of the pulled-back lips and gravestone teeth is one of the things that can trigger a spontaneous laugh from me.
The loner part of me understands why I am reluctant to go out and live large in the world. The adventurer part of me is always poking me in the ribs and saying “what are you waiting for? Why is it so scary to live the way thousands of other people live?” I’m not talking about going to Australia with nothing but the clothes on my back, which is what my sister is capable of, but I AM afraid of so many things that she just blasts through. She is, one one hand, a formidable, gorgeous woman, who lets no one reign her in, and on the other, a someone who needs approval from multitudes of people to assert her right to remain herself. She lives in the moment, and the people who pass through her life give her thousands of “thumbs-up”s.
Me? I feel mediocre at all times. I felt so brave for moving to Calgary… And it DID change my life, in so many good ways that I can’t list them. I think that I am open to moving anywhere. I could leave tomorrow, if I need to. As long as Biggs can come along, I can pick up my life, and go. There are things that I want to take, and things that I know will be left behind, and things that I wish I could just leave for the next person who lives here.
I didn’t realize until this year, that life is a constant edit. How did I manage to last 29 years without really plunging into anything? I have skimmed the surface of relationships, of experiences, and then bailed…
Over the last couple of months, I have been scrapping my physical property on a layer-by-layer basis. I’m ready to get rid of them, but I do feel attachments severing… like cutting tendons from muscle layers.
I guess, a part of me wants to move to Greece (especially), or to Mexico (oh, the people!)… but I do know that given my aptitude and Eric’s, that we are big-north-american-city bound. We don’t have kids, and we don’t have a specific future in mind, but I love the heck out of that guy. We have something great coming our way, and I don’t know what it is… but I know that any gypsy feelings, any Tom Huck mentality, is completely gone when I look at his face. And I know, with absolute certainty, that he would change his entire life in a split second, if it meant my happiness. And I would do the same.
I can’t wait to start my life with this guy.
God did me a solid. (*knuckle bump with God*)
It took a long time, but I am so