Light the Night - Victoria 2013

 I walked, I cried, I even caught myself smiling.  I stood in the crowd in a flat daze watching blood cancer survivors in royal blue shirts soaking in life.  Their smiles so real and deep, their eyes twinkling.  It was as though they had just run a race and crossed the finish line.  It was beautiful and painful all in the same moment.   These faces were the epitome of grateful.  Grateful to be alive, to be walking and conversing with loved ones.  Just thankful to have woken up that morning for another 24 hrs on this earth.

The lanterns marked your journey to the night air around you and to those at your side in the crowd.  Who hasn’t been touched by cancer these days?? Where you there supporting (red), surviving (white), or remembering (gold)?

It’s a double edge sword to be so naked with your spot in life.  You want to be proud and honour the life of your lost one. The person who taught you how to love with all your heart.  The person who lived for his family and children.  But, to uncover this vulnerability in a crowd of others is stripping.    You feel pity and sadness when you catch the gaze of others who know why you’re there.  You feel as though you’re robbing hope from the ones who think they can beat it.

I stood and listened to the speakers as they told their stories of survival, and loss.   I remembered instantly what it was like to live a life consumed by hospital visits and fatigue.  I watched Audrey and Noah as they listened.  There was no talk of it in the car afterwards, no questions.  I was grateful for the reprieve from answering or having to explain away the why’s of cancer.

There were tears, but just my own as I watched the two of them navigate the path of lanterns at dusk ahead of me.  As we wove through the campus they talked about what classes they’d like to take when they go to the University of Victoria.

Then the questions started…Where do you live when you go away to school?  When is lunch hour? How long is recess??  When is curfew?  (I’m sticking with that one!) How many books can you take out of the library?  Do you get your own computer?  We walked past the ocean and earth sciences building and Audrey declared her major.   I think Mark would be proud of the little individuals they have become.  I sure am.

always in our hearts

our woods

As I wind my way through the familiar streets to work each morning the backdrop to my 12 minute commute seems busier than usual to me.  The workers are out pouring concrete and it’s before 8 o’clock.  A new neighbourhood park has magically sprouted from a rocky field of disarray.  Colourful bobbles hang on the end of tubes covered in bubble wrap of the newest splash pad to be.  Young trees lie on their sides protected in burlap waiting for the crew to lower them into their new home.  A suburb has been growing on the sidelines of my shortcut to work.  It seems to have come from nowhere, the rows and rows of houses look endless instead of sparse as they did a year ago.

I wonder to myself how many kids venture past the orange netting on the play structure when the workers go home at night.  The kids and families in this development must be craving their man made park after living in dust and construction for over 2 years, not a sidewalk or tree in sight until this week.   I immediately feel a pang of guilt for coasting through the freshly installed stop sign like all the others that morning.

All this hustle and bustle on the way to work makes me think about my little piece of paradise that I’ve called home for the past 5 ½ years.  It too was the same in its infancy, a forest and field, converted to construction zone, and ultimately a 35 home subdivision.  Trucks and workers invading what used to be untouched land.  The older neighbours tell stories of how their kids used to catch frogs in the very place where my home stands today.  I wonder how different it may have looked prior to the development, but I don’t have to go too far to see.

I have been lucky enough to have enjoyed the beautiful forest that stands tall right outside our front door.   The beauty and accessibility to the woods is what drew me to this special place and it will be the thing I miss most about living here.  I have run miles and worked out life’s problems on these trails.  Cycled with my kids, taught them both how to skate on the pond and most recently how to cross country ski.  Every visitor to our home is proudly shown “our woods” and it has become a place that my children covet as though it were their very own. 

I am hopeful the newcomers to Tofino Private will find the beauty in our woods and love it as much as we have. 

Sidney by the Sea

Its funny how there are places in this world that just seem to fit.   You may never have been there before, but when you get there – it just feels right.  You walk the streets and unwrap a neighbourhood and feel as though it was meant for you.   You sit in the local coffee shop and speak to complete strangers who are happy to make conversation – it’s the middle of a workweek and the pace is peaceful, unhurried.  

Maybe it’s got something to do with the person you’re with, or the common desire to shift gears and make a change.   Maybe it’s timing, maybe its luck or fate.  It’s probably a combination of all of the above, but there is something about the west coast that feels different.  There is something about being close to the ocean and the mountains that make it a beautiful place to be.  A place that you miss dearly when you’re far from it and you wonder how you ever left it for so long.

By day 2 I had discovered my favourite place for coffee and the best breakfast place in town.  I knew where to buy a great bottle of wine off hours (this is BC!) and I could drive Chris to work and back and not get lost.   I took advantage of my alone time while he had the busiest week yet at his new job and I wandered the streets of Sidney with no deadlines, and nowhere to be.  It felt downright luxurious to wander and explore while the details of a pending house deal worked their way out in the background. 

As the week quickly drew to an end the patterns of a new beginning began to show themselves…my walk home from dowtown was on Third Street always because there are more magnolias and cherry trees to see on that route home.  And, if it’s early evening you can see the sun shining on the water as you peer between the waterfront homes.   My morning stop for coffee is already a done deal, and the cashier at the local market smiled at me again like she recognized me.

I think we’re going to like Sidney, it just feels right.

Etched

Some dates and memories just stick in your head, difficult to shake.  Years go by and you marvel at your own ability to remember.  How can a person remember what the air smelled like 7 years ago one evening?  The hum of fluorescent lights in a vacant parking lot, the rain drops shimmering on the hood of the raspberry red minivan.  Two lonesome cars, parked under a light.

The stillness and heavy feeling that saturated our bodies fell upon us like a blanket that night.  Standing out front the clinic in a parking lot in Langley.  We stood in between our cars looking at one another, grasping hands, speechless – afraid to let go and escape into the privacy of our respective cars so we could both cry and embrace the terror that was surging below our brave faces we had tried to put on for one another.   

This night is etched in my mind, as crisp and as real as anything today.  I battle with myself when the memories come back.   I wonder what is gained by reliving such a traumatic night?  Why do I do this to myself?  Why do I let a date on a calendar dictate my mood?   Am I getting better at it as the years go by, or worse??   Why is this so real, so easy to recall 7 years later?

I’d always thought we are somewhat pre-programmed to soften memories to make it easier on ourselves.  It’s our built in safety mechanism.   How else could people survive traumatic events?  It would be destructive to relive these types of things over and over.    Human nature must take over somehow and soften the blow for us.  I believe this to be true, yet – there are times when all it takes is a date on a calendar, a place, a familiar smell, or the way the light shines and the memory is there.   Like it never left your side, not even for a moment.