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A year ago today, we woke early and made coffee. We watched men put our things into a truck. We packed our tiny car with what we needed for 6 weeks, we stuffed the dogs in there too.

I remember driving away, whispering farewells to the house we’d called home, to the neighbours we’d called friends, to my favourite tree down my favourite street. When we left the familiar city boundaries, we turned the volume up and sang our sorrow into excitement and bubbly beginnings.

It’s been 365 sleeps (366 to be exact, since it was a leap year), and just as many emotions. Exhilarating days discovering our neighbourhood, our city, and days missing the comfort of the known. There’s still so much we haven’t done or seen, still so much to hold our attention.

I miss the forest and the river steps away from our front door. I miss the wisdom of the wind singing harmonies with the leaves.

But the trees in Montreal are approachable. They’ve been around people so much, they know exactly what to do with us.

And living in French has rekindled a part of me that had been forgotten.

So… here’s to another orbit around the sun.
Here’s to newness and challenge and discovery.
Here’s to transforming a house into a home, acquaintances into friendships.
Here’s to roots breaking through cement.

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(top photo from wehearit.com , bottom from jetpac.com)

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Roaring Waters

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The water is roaring. The riverbed can’t hold her in. She’s rushing… flooding… running… trickling way past her usual edges. Like a delirious child, madly colouring outside the lines. Her container is no longer suitable. It’s too constricted. But here’s the beauty – she doesn’t try to fit into it. She just builds a new one.

I put one foot in front of the other. I can’t tell if my hair is made of snakes. I’m not sure if that’s the sound of my heart, or the wild thumping of the core of the earth. And I don’t want to know. My skin feels soft and loose, yet I’m bursting at the seams. There is rage, and power, and excitement. There is magic, unbridled joy, and the deepest trust in all the things. There is mourning also. Sadness. Disappointment. Fear, trying to hold me back. But the current is tenacious; it’s way too strong now. My vessel is too small. It’s time to build a new one…

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