I really don't like packing. I dislike flying. Unpacking is anathema. Travel is stressful. Moving is traumatic. But with all that said and acknowledged, my goodness do I miss being elsewhere and elsewith. I want to see my parents, my sisters, my in-laws, my niephews. My distant friends. I miss else-land. My kingdom for the seashore! For mountains and deserts and downs. Eldest son, still in Vancouver, sends me photos of views--and of himself--that make my heart melt.
I started this blog as a means of communicating with friends I was leaving behind in England--nearly a decade ago!-- and as therapy for myself moving to Toronto. I wrote a lot in the beginning, weekly or even more. I needed that therapy. As I settled into life in Canada, and as different social media flourished, the blog became more of an opportunity to comment on, fulminate about, or laugh at the oddities that differ amongst the UK, Canada, and the US. These points of difference strike me less often the longer I am here. The posts have become less frequent.
Then came CoViD19. Everything struck me, sometimes with the force of a fist, at other times more like the lash of a wet noodle. I began writing frequently again. I also started living on Zoom and its ilk which has had the weird silver lining of bringing me closer together with friends and family who live far away. Yes they are flat and confined to a square digital cage but so are my colleagues and neighbors. We are not all in the same boat, but everyone I know is on the same screen. I meet with them, I sing with them, I learn Hebrew with them, I discuss books with them, I consume cocktails with them.
It's been more than 90 days in captivity now and it no longer feels like a hardship. In some ways it is freedom: freedom from caring about clothing, freedom from being late for appointments, freedom from packing suitcases. I have gotten to know my house better than I ever have, its nooks and crannies and hiding places. All the rooms at all different times of day. I am even more grateful to the bizarre circumstances that allowed us to buy this house at all (thank you Kate Watson!). With warm weather and quiet streets I feel as though I could just stay here. Stay put. Forever. In a neighborhood with a mixed and diverse population, a place where cultures blend, where black lives mattering is a daily reality rather than a bumper sticker.
I'm going to check the suitcase closet just to reassure myself they are still there, intact, ready to travel. As will I be, soon. Meanwhile I appreciate being locked in a house that has a suitcase closet.
NB (whatever that means): I meant to post this blog some time back but as seems common at the moment, time slid past. We're now on day 127 of lockdown. Daughter is keeping track: daily she does one sit-up for every day of lockdown. Elder son arrived in Toronto over 2 weeks ago. More on that.
