216

Often times I’ve heard people quote life as being a “balance of holding on and letting go.” I’ve come to believe in this entirely. I anticipated to write something surrounding this quote for the past five weeks or so. I’ve always been a mindful girl. I think about longevity, I think about things in terms of the linear. I think about the eventual. And I think about the blissful end.  This tends to happen in almost everything I do. Accessorizing  for a wedding, planning a trip, or even setting a dinner table. I always think of the beautiful end. Photographs, footprints, sounds and conversations. What I want. This is not to say, however, that I think all the time or I need therapeutic sessions preaching of the “now”. I can do the “now” but I can also see beyond it and sometimes this feeds my soul. Other times it shakes it. Maybe I’m referring to faith. I really dunno.

What happens when you’re holding onto as much as you’re letting go? What happens if you can’t foresee the so-called “blissful end”? Some vague walking watch suit might say “that’s life for you” but that does not answer my desire or thirst for contemplation.  You might wonder what I find so conflicting. I’d rather not be ambiguous.

 I  left the city I grew up in two years ago and moved away to another city, not so far away, under conditions of a university student. I was so scared but I knew it was the greatest thing I had ever done. Even if it was just under three hours away from the familiar.  I was also beyond excited. I had an entire world to learn. How to cook and domesticate myself in such a new and unfamiliar place. I had to learn how to share who I was with others. Where I had come from, I was rewarded for being myself. I always had a spot reserved on the football bleachers. I loved the people I knew and they loved me. It was such a pleasant upbringing. It was open and caressing. I had to learn new people. And, ultimately, I had to learn me. When there was no one around to ask me how my day was, I’d ask myself and I’d think about it. I’d fix where I’d gone wrong. And when it was Friday morning, I’d load up the car and head 3 hours North- where they knew me, just to feel confident again. But those visits gradually grew infrequent. I learned how to walk from a local pub in two inch heels. I learned that “let’s go for coffee” meant “let’s be friends”, I learned that laughing attracts people. I learned how to create a life with new people who were just as brilliant and beautiful as the people from my fresh history.  I still cherished my friends from senior year, but also learned to accept change and the people it had invited into my life. I met someone I completely fell in love with unexpectedly. A pack of skittles and a history class. We used to study Rock n’ Roll together. He kissed me after reviewing Carole King and James Taylor. I didn’t hear a thing.

I grew to love the place that scared me. And I just grew. Some people refer to this place as a geographical dud. Maybe it is. There’s no ocean, nor boardwalk or lantern restaurant. But that’s not why I love it. I love this place because of the people that have invited me into their lives without contemplation of who I am or where I come from.  And now I am leaving it for very convoluted reasons. Ultimately, I’m leaving it for schooling. And I’m back at one. And I’m back to being scared. And I doubt that it’s the same kind of “I’m scared” as before. This is much more emotionally confusing than that. And I can’t put my finger on it. I think this time I really am broadcasting from ‘Radio Nowhere’. I truly am lost. I have beautiful people, loving people in the city I grew up in. I am thrilled to see them, too. But I feel as though I am leaving in the prime of a new life. Like a baby wearing shoes for the first time after she has learned to walk barefoot. It’s trippy. Or maybe like that kid who learns how to ride a bike without training wheels only to have them screwed on again. I feel like I am perhaps moving backwards in the motion of moving forward and it is exhausting yet hilarious to recognize.  Even so, the people I have met and fallen in love with, if genuine, will always be there, training wheels or not. And I suppose in moving backwards this is my motivation. To appreciate and love the people who tell me “it’s okay” and truly believe that it is. I couldn’t ask for anything more.

I leave in under four weeks. I’ll be 20 soon. Big deal, I know. The only thing I am completely sure of is the highway, the one I drive three hours North of this place and three hours South of that place. You should see those fields when the sun’s rays are upon them. A scarecrow would even appreciate them. It’s good stuff. And you should see the Honey Bee Farm. The white sign is faded. Perhaps the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. And you should see how fast those lines on the road pass you by. When you’re about 45 minutes away from Calgary, Alberta, 15 minutes from Nanton, you’ll see a farm with a smiley face painted on the siding of it. That’s when you know you’re close. On exceptional sunny days, the sky is completely blue and you can see the windmills in the distance. A Bruce Springsteen album shot. Makes you want to kick up dust with your boots or wander in your jeans. Makes you want to touch everything. Makes you want to feel everything. Your senses are alive. It’s like understanding a Bob Dylan song for the first time without the raindrops.

Ev’rybody knows
That Baby’s got new clothes
But lately I see her ribbons and her bows
Have fallen from her curls.
She takes just like a woman, yes, she does
She makes love just like a woman, yes, she does
And she aches just like a woman
But she breaks just like a little girl.

I think that’s what I know best right now. 216 Km. I thought I’d know a lot more than that by this time. Not really.  I remember a lot of things and I’ll be 20 soon. My room here is empty. I have a fully charged camera.  I plan to document my attempt at flying a kite in what could very well be the windiest city EVER. Beyond that, I plan on fishing with my love, sharing champagne with him in a field (lame? you haven’t lived),  painting a canvas, going out for cupcakes and tea, hiking, cooking a Martha Stewart envy, and doing something irrational like sleeping in a motel for an evening. Possibly try a cigar. No doubt, dance in a country bar ’til the lights bring me back to some Memphis country fair I might have seen in a past life.

My start to 216. Radio Nowhere. I remember a lot of things. I’ll be 20 soon.

Then he said yes I think it can be easily done
Just take everything down to highway 61