Southeast's

It’s Friday night in Port Edward, British Columbia. The wind is howling outside. An anchorage warning broadcast 20 knots gusting in the harbour. The rain, hitting the starboard side of the tug, sounds like a snare drum. The Southeast’s are back. 

Yesterday was the Equinox. Equal day and night hours. Tonight I feel enclosed by the darkness, wind and rain. In other seasons of my life I’ve found them an exhilarating adventure to conquer. Tonight, as I sit alone under a sleeping bag, I wonder where this adventure will lead next. 

There’s a knot in my throat that I’ve lived with this last year as a love and I tried to make it work. After a summer season of catching up on music festivals dearly missed during the pandemic years, we parted ways. I’m sad because the dream of love has been with me for a long time. I’m sad that it’s not ready yet. I’m sad and the coldness of the season shift is mirrored within me. 

I want to leave. I want to be somewhere I can walk barefoot and move and swim freely. I want to leave the uncomfortable feelings within my heart. But I think to be able to find spring again, I have to sit in a winter for a while. 

I hope to find love someday. I hope that the love I find within and build with another spills over, into the families and communities we’re apart of. I hope it’s powerful and healthy and sacred and safe. 

There’s a tear rolling down my cheek in unison to a raindrop outside. I’m lost within a dream that came true. 

I have a cabin overlooking the water where I can watch the tides rise and fall. I have my family all around and get to see them each day. I have a golden dog and a boat and a job on the water, close to home. A story that illustrates my journey sits on store shelves and parents introduce me to their children as an author. I sit here cloaked under a -30 degree sleeping bag in an Icelandic wool sweater, both cherished for the safety of their warmth. 

I am so proud and sad, lost and yet exactly where I hoped to be.