The Last "Normal" Night at 1902 Riverbank Drive

Day One: Drive, drive, drive, pee break, drive, drive, drive, stop for gas, buy munchies, drive, drive, drive, pee break, drive, drive, drive, arrive in Agassiz, visit way past bed time while eating brownies and drinking tea, sleep.



Day Two: Breakfast with P & G, drive, drive, drive, wait for ferry, board ferry, cross channel, drive, arrive at Saanich, move into K & D’s house, visit, eat delicious roast beef dinner, visit, go to bed, sleep.


Day Three: Get up way too early, but surprisingly refreshed due to excellent pillows, attend breakfast meeting, attend conference, go out for dinner, return home, visit, got to bed, sleep.


Day Four: Get up not too early, eat breakfast, go shopping, buy new shoes, jacket and some of those excellent pillows to take home, attend conference, return home, visit, go out for supper, return home, visit, go to bed, sleep


Day Five: Get up not too early, eat breakfast, visit, go to Butterfly Gardens, have Belgian waffle for lunch at Smitty’s, go to Aqaurium, return home, have supper visit, drink wine, go to bed, sleep.


Day six: Get up not too early, eat breakfast, visit, do book store tour, stop at candy shop, go to cupcake shop, return home, eat supper, visit, go to bed, sleep


Day Seven: Get up early, pack up, visit briefly, load car, drive to ferry, wait for ferry, cross channel, drive to Agassiz to pick up things forgotten there, drive, drive,drive, stop for lunch, buy gas, drive, drive, drive, pee break, drive, drive, drive, stop for munchies, drive, drive, drive, arrive in Quesnel, check into motel, check e-mail, read, surf TV channels, check bank/Visa balances (be pleasantly surprised!), read, go to sleep.


Day Eight: Get up early, shower, make coffee, watch stupid 80’s game shows, check e-mail/FB, go for breakfast, drive, pick up dog, drive, drive, drive, arrive in Decker Lake, transfer baggage to van, drive home.


End holiday.


I’m not much of a traveller. Usually, being away from home is an anxiety-ridden activity in which relaxing and enjoying myself is about as foreign as the beds I sleep in and the places I eat. Three hours out and I’m wanting to get home again. This time I had fun, relaxed, enjoyed the experience and going home was the part of the trip that contained the trepidation, as my inner drama queen anticipated potential disasters awaiting me upon my return. I had visions of all my possessions unceremoniously dumped on the lawn. It’s silly, I know, but I figured that at some point something had to go wrong.


Of course, no such thing happened. I arrived home to everything being just as I left it. The dogs greeted me and the Lord of the Manor was sleeping. The only change was that he had taken over my parking spot in the drive way, forcing me to schlep my baggage six steps further to get them in the house.


I spent the evening sorting out my stuff, unpacking as best I could and fixing myself a bite of supper. It hit me that this was the last night that things would be “normal” at 1902 Riverbank Drive, for the following day packing to move would begin in earnest. In a mere eight days, this will no longer be my home. Reality was beginning to settle into my bones. Cue the anxiety attack. I had passed the point of no return and no matter how things play out, I had to accept that I am about to be completely and totally on my own for the first time in my entire life.


The panic attack was blessedly brief. I breathed my way through it and treaded it with positive visions of being in my own space, filled with my own things, doing what I want, enjoying my new-found freedom and discovering my true potential. I didn’t give up until I had recaptured that thrilling excitement that has been the driving force behind my decision to buy a house and go it alone.


There remains a good deal of sadness; I can’t deny it. I wish that things had turned out differently, but, alas, they did not. I take solace in knowing that I did the best I could. I loved fully and unconditionally, only to discover that unconditional love is more or less a myth. There are always conditions: compromise, give and take, support, trust, friendship, partnership... Without these things there are no dynamics, no growth and only stagnation. Puttering about I realized just how stagnant things had become. I cannot, however, put my finger on just where or how things went wrong. I think it’s a huge jumbled combination of stuff. I suppose if I put my mind to it, I might someday figure it out. I don’t think that it’s worth putting that much effort into, though. There are too many other fun things to do.


Things like the Sisters’ camping trip in May (hopefully). A day trip to Ft. St. John with some friends. The Women’s Festival in August. My birthday party in June. Decorating my house. Designing. Work (oddly enough). Friends. A visit from my sister and brother-in-law (possibly) in June. A garden? Thanksgiving dinner. Halloween. Yule. No need to get too much further ahead than that for now.


It’s really hard to reconcile the conflicting emotions. Sacrifice vs. gain comes with a crap load of stuff happening in mind, body and spirit. There’s a war going on between joy, excitement, happiness and, anticipation, and fear, resentment, anger and sadness. I’m relatively sure that the former four will win, but it’s currently an on-going and bloody battle. Packing is going to suck! I just hope that moving day will be quick – like ripping off a bandaid in one fast motion. I’m ever so grateful for the holiday respite that gave me a few days to not think about things. It was a good distraction.


Things I’m looking forward to: the house, having my own space, decorating, freedom, fun.


Things I’m dreading: leaving the dogs behind.


My last “normal” night at 1902 Riverbank Drive could use some wine. And some Salt and Pepper Kettle Chips. Hmmm... It’s not too late.