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Leaving Home, Coming Home

August 28, 2015 by Yolande Leave a Comment

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Treva and Felix both barfed twice in the car on the way to the airport, but whatever it was must have cleared their system, because the two flights from Fredericton to Toronto, to Vancouver, went relatively smoothly considering our crew, and the Westjet staff were fantastically sweet to us throughout. While we were waiting to board, Horus asked me if I was happy to be going home.  Well sweetheart, I said, New Brunswick is my home now, and I’m a little bit sad to be leaving New Brunswick honestly, because I’d like to be working in the pottery studio right now, but I suppose Vancouver is my first home, and I’m happy to be going there with you.
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Cosmo spent the whole flight from TO to Vancity, walking up and down the aisles, chatting with everyone, and the other kids were glue to the screen and mindlessly shoving into their mouths the various types of evil carbohydrates I had procured, in order to sedate them.  My devious plan worked, for the most part! Success.
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We went straight to mum’s house when we landed, and as always, it looks glorious and curious, and curated in the most wonderfully detailed and creative way.  My mum has immense style, and the kids went running around touching everything and saying Grandma Stacey!  Your house is SO beautiful!  I love your things grandma Stacey!  And it’s true:  she just has such a wonderful collection of art and artifacts, and while there is certainly quantity, everything is in its precise location.  My mum is quite particular. No pressure.
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Mum also gave us a tour of her stunning garden.  I’ll post a photo soon of her front lawn, which she has converted into the most luscious vegetable garden.  It really is magnificent.  She also introduced me to her boyfriend, Rowan.  He’s the pale guy, sitting down next to the garage door.  “He doesn’t give me any trouble at all.”, said Mum.  I’m really glad they’re happy together.
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The city is a shock, after years of our dozy cozy New Brunswick life.  It was kind of fun to show Lee the flash and the glitter and the tall tall trees.  We drove out to White Rock right away to see my ninety-four year old Grandpa, Gramps. I adore Gramps, to the beyond.  He was so happy to see all of us.  He’ll be at my little brother’s wedding in a week or so, in his tux.  We took the kids to the beach after our visit with Gramps, and my sister’s three little dogs got to run around, and then we headed over to my dad’s apartment. Dad also has a home full of artifacts and fascinating bits and pieces. I always do some pilfering when I’m here.  So far I’ve acquired a tarot card set, and a couple of books, and I’m going to steal a hunting knife or two (all with permission, of course).  We do identify with our objects, don’t we?  Gramps, in his dotage, has begun, after a life of relative non-materialism, scouring thrift stores, and bringing home the oddest assortment of, well, junk.  It’s not junk to him though, and that’s fine.  Who doesn’t need four sets of fire-place implements?  He has hung all of his tools up under his mantle-piece.  It’s weird, and endearing.  I love you Gramps.
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It’s always strange and nostalgic to be in the house where I grew up, amid the things that I grew up with. Photos of me when I was tiny, and the realization that I’m really [supposed to be] an adult now. It’s even stranger having Lee here with me.  He hasn’t really properly *met* met my family—he was only in Vancouver once before, and only for a day or two…So after nine years of marriage, here we are.  As I waver between infuriation and affection for these insane people who begat me, I kind of adore Lee even more.  Oh yes, I think to myself.  This is why I live in New Brunswick.  This is why I love you.  Sigh.  (Also, I really do think he is just the most beautiful man on the planet.  Gosh, listen to me.  This apparently, is the nine-year wedding anniversary post that never materialized.) Anyway. We’re having a pretty good time so far.
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The rain started, this morning, after an entire summer of terribly dry weather, and some awful forest fires. it should rain during our entire trip, which is pretty much as I remember.
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I work with smart, independent women who are sick of feeling disempowered by the myth that childbirth is a medical event from which we need to be delivered. I help mothers navigate the process of planning and manifesting their freebirth without fear. I'm also a writer and a ceramic artist. Feel free to get in touch with me at sasamat(dot)clark(at)gmail(dot)com.

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