At different times. Somewhere else, somewhere new. I have spent a lifetime travelling around the province I grew up in, the country I call home. I have not left this country in several years, but that does not mean I have not had my shares of adventures.
From being a young girl taking solo train rides from Toronto to Brockville. Scribbling down stories and dreaming of what I will be when I am older as the Eastern Ontario landscape rushed past my window.
Fast forward a few years, and I convinced my Mother that purchasing a summer cottage was a wise investment. Her and her vast knowledge and skill landed us a wonderful all year cabin. The first summer we owned it my Father and I decided to call it Home. We lived there from the time school ended to the week before it started up again. I remember long discovery walks through the woods with the neighbours dogs, days spent on the dock writing poetry, and nights beside an open fire reading.
When I graduated High School I felt the need to escape. Escape my life. Escape myself. I chose to do this by applying to the only school at the time that had a legitimate Creative Writing Degree. Back then there were few places that catered to the higher creative education of the Craft of Writing. The school of choice? Windsor University. A four-hour drive south of Toronto through legions of Transport Trucks down the Golden Horseshoe to south of the Detroit River. My new home was a small shared cement cell that over looked a graveyard at the entrance to the Ambassador Bridge. I was in the more coveted residents on campus. When the sun was warm I would jog along the Detroit River taking pause to watch the Shipment Tankers slink by, while staring at the City of Detroit and wondering what stories it held.
Windsor ultimately proved not to be the place I wished to be, and I was ushered home after one semester.
My next point of adventure?
Late night bus rides to Barrie, ON.
If you have ever been there it is not much of a place to go, but I knew some wonderful people. I would pack my bags within a few hours notice and hop on the next Greyhound out-of-town. The only people who knew where I was going were my Parents and those I was on my way to see. I did this for years, even fell in love with a young man there. Eventually, his family moved out of Barrie to a small community by a lake. I would take a bus out there almost every weekend and sit in their backyard drinking beers, smoking cigarettes, feeling the sun through the trees, and listening to their family buzz around me. It was my small vacation away from the big TO.
After a year of dating my boyfriend agreed to move to Toronto. For fun we would take random road trips around Ontario. We owned a map of the province and highlighted every highway we had driven down. On my birthday he asked me where I wanted to go. I spun around three times and pointed to the map on our wall. My finger had landed on Tombermory, ON. A place I never knew existed, but proved to be a magical drive. Ontario is so beautiful and vast. Upon arrival we discovered it to be the scuba diving capital of the country. Who knew? Crystal clear lakes, majestic beaches, haunting swamps. All discovered by the tip of my finger.
We eventually broke up, and I eventually grew up more.
I found myself in my mid twenties living in a quaint bachelor in the Beaches of Toronto. I was, and still am, in love with that small yellow apartment. It was a perfect place to be alone. I could wake up every morning, buy a coffee from a local cafe, and walk a block to a bench that sat in the sand. I would sip my coffee as I watched the sun play on the lake. Living in Toronto, but feeling like I was always on vacation. This lasted four months until I decided to move to Halifax, NS.
Why?
I was feeling lost on what to do with my life, and the best way for me to figure out what I want is to completely shake things up. I packed everything I owned into my Parents van and we drove to my new home. Once there I finished my Undergrad, found myself, lost myself, and fell in love not only with the people I met but the Ocean, the Land.
Tragedy struck me a few low blows. My mental health gave out and I found myself with no job, unable to pay rent, unable to get off the couch. My Partners family took me in for eight months. After this time the two of us decided we needed something new. My Partner discovered his calling in life was to be a teacher. We found ourselves packing up everything we owned into our trusty van and driving across the Country to Edmonton, AB.
There have been other travels in between. A birthday gift to Boston, MA then Salem, MA. A road trip through the Rocky Mountains. Plans and schemes for the near and not too distant future.
What is next?
I am not sure. I have never seen the Pacific Ocean. I have never lived in another Country.
I have been to many different places. I have learned you can never really plan on the next place you are going to go.
But I have a vague idea.
Until Next Time.
