Bittersweet Goodbye

In a few days’ time, I will be hopping on a plane back out East for my new job. Which I guess by this point is not really news, or a surprise, given the nature of my blog posts from the past year.

I think it’s been evident that I’ve loved working and living there, and I am excited to continue my journey there for the next 7 months. Moving is always a struggle, a challenge, but the payoff and the lessons that you learn are just so rewarding.

What makes this time different from the last time I moved was that my summer gig was a very last-minute, rushed, whirlwind-type of affair. Between my offer date and my start date, I had 13 days to find a place to live, plow through stacks of paperwork, and physically move myself over. Less than 2 weeks’ notice to pack up and rebuild my life! It was insanity, but the kind that made me excited to get up in the morning.

This time, I received my offer 2 months in advance. There was plenty of time for me to absorb the information, find a place to live, and slowly start to tell friends, family, and people in my social circles about me leaving. And in the last month, I have been pleasantly surprised by the amount of people in my life who have reached out to me. Who I have been able to spend time with, re-connect with, and remind me all over again about why I love this city so much and the people in it.

I’ve been so touched by the kind and encouraging words, messages, and Christmas cards. This has hands-down been the best winter break/holiday season ever, and I honestly cannot believe that I am leaving in 3 days- it just isn’t really sinking in. The past month has been kind to me, and I have been very happy.

It also just makes it that much more difficult to leave it all behind. The more time I spend with loved ones, the more I admire my beautiful hometown with that gorgeous backdrop of nature, the more reluctant I am to leave.

But the fact that it is so hard for me to leave this time is a huge blessing. Thank you for giving me so many reasons that make it difficult for me to leave, that make me miss Vancouver before I’ve even left. I’m truly lucky to have so many wonderful people in my life who I will dearly miss. And I am lucky to have a piece of my heart in each city.

All the best for the new year, my friends. May it be filled with realized dreams, accomplished goals, and a sense of joy and wonder. This isn’t goodbye- just a “see you later”.

(Literally, because I have to finish my degree this year. And who knows- I may be back to visit sooner than you think 😉 keep in touch!)

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The First Time You Call Someplace Home

When you first move from one place to another, you never refer to it as home.

Not intentionally, but because it truly isn’t home to you. For the first little while, you feel like a visitor- in my case, a displaced Vancouverite who’s not really sure what she’s doing or where she’s going. Your new place feels more like a hotel, or like you’re simply crashing with a friend for a few days. It feels unfamiliar, uncomfortable, cold. You yearn for the comforts that you’ve taken for granted all these years.

You pull the blanket around you tighter and close your eyes, trying to imagine yourself at home in your own bed. You trick yourself into believing that it is, so that your mind will finally rest. Day in, day out.

When you talk to friends, you refer to your new place as “your apartment”, and when you leave work for the day, you say “I’m heading out”, rather than “I’m heading home”. These are all technically correct. It is a subconscious reflex- you can’t control it. You won’t realize it either.

The first time you call someplace home, you will surprise yourself. The taste of the word will feel strange in your mouth- like speaking a foreign language.

3 weeks in-
Roommate: “Are you on campus? I forgot my keys and I’m locked out.”
Me: “I’ll be home around 6:30.”

“Home”. You roll the word over on your tongue, trying to digest what you just said. Evaluating your comfort with the concept that a foreign place could be a home to you. You are momentarily lost in thought.

And it will happen again. And again. Until it is an automatic reflex. And only then will you take a step back and realize just how far you’ve come.

After being displaced this summer into a tiny residence and three different hotels- my point of reference of “home” has shifted again and again. And I’ve come to realize that home isn’t a place or a person- it is a feeling. Home is a feeling that you carry with you wherever you go.

And I will carry it with me again when I leave this January, and I will carry it wherever my life takes me.