Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Living in a Dream

The view from my home in the morning

Today I walked the kids to the bus stop which is right beside the ocean.  I said to them "look at that ocean!" to which Martina replied, "we live in a dream!"

What a beautiful sentiment.  Sometimes a 7 year old has a better perspective, a better grasp on appreciation than adults who lose their way when the world seems more of a nightmare than a dream.  This week, with the events on the news, the talk of guns and violence against children and the sadness of what is happening to our neighbours south of the border, it's difficult to stay in a positive optimistic mood.  Particularly when the powers that can make change seem to remain inert and unwilling to do so.

But no amount of our misery can make another happy.  Christmas is upon us, our family is healthy and our move is well over half done.  We are living in a small apartment with our new house becoming available on Christmas Eve when the current tenants leave.  It's this house, the upper level so the rest of the move will consist of renovations, painting and then filling it full of new furniture.  We are very excited.  We will be debt free when it's all done and our business income will be higher than before.

And finally I will be able to fully concentrate on my writing career.  Without going into details, it is all coming together on that end.  I have a commitment to write my second novel and it looks like my second poetry collection will be available before Valentine's day, appropriate since it's a collection of love poetry.

The house has 5 bedrooms, one of which will be my writing room.  I let the girls choose first and they left me the upper level gable room that faces the ocean.  Exciting.  I'm planning on working on a collection of Newfoundland inspired poetry next.

Just over two years ago when I first decided that it was time to move back home, that this is where my heart is and where I needed to be to fulfill my dreams, I had a picture of how it would look.  That photograph in my mind has developed, become clearer and clearer like one of those Polaroids that develops as you watch, showing with clarity, what has been captured.  You can only point and shoot and trust that it develops into something good. The picture is still developing, as life here unfolds, but so far I am loving our new home. 

Last night I spent the evening wrapping 46 little gifts that we had hand made for the kids' new friends and teachers.  The little tree we bought was lit and the house was filled with the sound of Christmas music.  The girls giggled and wrapped and cut and argued and the cat played with ribbon and cellophane while the puppy guarded the chocolate and marshmallow dipped spoons and hot chocolate with his fluffy life.  It was not a movie of the week evening.  It was a perfect, real and imperfect family evening.

For years I have awakened at night  with the overwhelming smell of wood burning.  I was told it was an auditory hallucination.  I've always felt it was so much more.  Now I consider that it was perhaps a premonition.

For when I walk in the evening, listening to the ocean wrap itself around the shoreline and pulley clotheslines with their scroop scroop scroop blowing in the breeze, it is smell of the woodsmoke in the air that gives me the greatest feeling of being at home.  It is on those clear evenings when the stars are bright and the moon hangs that I know with the certainty of a seven year old, that we do indeed, live in a dream.


Sunday, December 9, 2012

This is Home.

On my first walk around I took this photo of a dory at the edge of the ocean.

The adventure of moving clear across the country is complete.  And what a journey it was!  Delays that started at the outset(we weren't ready on time) to mother nature's interference in the Gulf of St. Lawrence(high seas) left us with time to explore a bit of Cape Breton and consider what we were really getting ourselves into.  And we're good with it all!

So now, I live by the sea again!  I can see it from my driveway and will see it from my living room window once I move upstairs in our new home!  I am delighted with the town, the view, the neighbours, the  people and even the weather which has been unseasonably mild!

There are as many colours to the ocean as there are fish in its depths.  I go outside each day to a different shade of its grey/blue surface.  I consider that perhaps this ocean and I have much in common.  Moving, rolling, calm, sometimes fierce and always changing.  Maybe that's why I feel such a kinship to it.

Now comes the details, little girls are in school, the season of Christmas is upon us, family lives all around us, my wonderful husband has a brand new job and is training in St. John's and our house has sold in Ontario which makes us financially flush.  I plan to put nose to laptop after the bustle of Christmas and finish a book or two!  My mind is bursting to write, my heart is filled with inspiration and my life is filled with joy.

And of course, there will be a visit to my home town soon.  I pass the sign to the ferry and my little car almost shakes with the desire to turn left and drive there.  Soon we'll explore the magic of Change Islands again.  We dream of buying a place there, a small summer home maybe.  We dream and the dreams will come to fruition because we dream.

And perhaps a visit to St. John's.  I would like to head in there boxing day but it'll probably be well after Christmas before we go.  But go we will, maybe a hockey game at Mile One as our  hockey drought continues and we're both thirsty for a bit of blade against ice action.

Yesterday I purchased some baking supplies at a local store and picked up a CD of local music.  As I drove around listening to the accordion and fiddle I was filled with such a sense of content, tears filled my eyes.  This is where I'm supposed to be and this is where I'll find my niche, make my mark, live my life.  This place that I am just starting to know is where I'll stay, until I feel drawn to another place because I do believe my heart is a nomadic heart and I'm just the servant who follows it.

Meanwhile, I will walk up the main street, watch the ships in the port and delight in their transient nature.  For like the ship, I too slip in and out of port, enjoy the waves and the journey and the destination with equal fervor.  And like the ships, I'll know when it's time to move forward again.  But for now, this is where I stay.

For now, this is home.