I didn’t want to come. I wrote,
This is happening. All the tearful nights, fear, and heartbreak culminate today when we drive to the next place I will call home. And yet, I don’t want to call it home. I have no home. I am grateful that I am not homeless and yet…and yet.
When we left Cambridge, I thought life would end. I didn’t want to face the next chapter. I knew it would be hard. And it was. The last three years were even harder than I had imagined. I made it though, but part of me wished that I hadn’t. I fear the next chapter will be even worse yet.
The brick wall that I keep around my heart has gotten taller and stronger. It is there to protect me from breaking completely. It is necessary. I walk tired, weak and empty to the next place. I put one foot in front of the other and hope one day to find an oasis.
Now, we are here. I put my clothes away in drawers where they will stay not for a week nor a month but possibly, for three years. I drive the streets knowing that the unfamiliar will soon become familiar. I search for beauty and for gratitude but the chaos of moving keeps my heart tight and my breath shallow.
We walk on.
Today, we went to the Old Strathcona Farmers’ Market. I think I will find this place a comfort. Not far from our house, it speaks a language I understand– fresh, local, organic produce, preserves, honey, baked goods, and good ‘ole Menno sausage.
The goal – get to know them all. The challenge – sample product from every vendor. Today’s purchase – honey. Served on a piece of home-baked bread, it was lovely.
From there we headed over to Churchill Square. In the summer this square serves as a free little wading pool, while in the winter it is an outdoor rink. That’s fun.
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