The Journey Back

Trying to understand the motions of my life and, by doing so, maybe witness a pattern behind them. perhaps arriving at philosophical resignation one day…later I will discover that there is a greater home and greater family much more loving than the physical family and home as my ideas begin to broaden.

So there I was at a penniless point and there was no where else to go but home and I groaned at the idea of facing my father. I remember his voice when i phoned him from jail (my one phone call) and, after telling him about my predicament, how he gruffly said, “Send me a postcard” and promptly hung up the phone. I sat there holding the dead line to my ear for a moment, not sure what to do. This was not good.

Before my mother had left, I remember the day waking up with blood all over my legs and, not knowing about menstruation, I ran into my parents room. My looked at me and rolled over irritatingly saying, “talk to her Ted”. I turned and ran back into my room finding after no help there. shortly after my father came in and explained it all to me. I had a replaying memory of my mother from when i was five years old which upset me. It was always there to haunt our relationship. When my mother left us she had told no one. she just wasn’t there one day. gone. She didn’t talk to us until weeks after her departure to let us know she had moved away to start a new life. I didn’t know how to feel – sad – happy – relieved?

So there i was sitting at the bus stop in nova scotia waiting for the long coast-to-coast ride home to British Columbia – this pattern of leaving and returning would resurface for the rest of my life. later, after transcendence, i would understand the intelligence behind movement and how it leads the mind into new avenues of understanding in an abstract way.

by the time i got to Montreal my legs and arms were stiff from inactivity. I had read Mordecai Richler, a Canadian who wrote about the Jewish slums in Montreal, and i was curious about them. Curiosity has always been my Achilles heal and I consulted the bus shedual realizing I could take the next bus 8 hours away. so i slipped off and made my way towards that dirty part of town…

I moved through the streets asking for directions and responding with a shrug when asked why i want to go there. The few i spoke to tried to redirect me towards the city center but i was staunch in my pursuit. Just so happens that the bus station was not too far away from my destination. I could literally see the cross-over point of civilization into the slums of no return. As I stepped over the boundary liter and questionable persons overcame me for the first twenty minutes and then I calmed down, my eyes absorbing everything. It was close to 6am and light was beginning to wash away the dirt from the prior evening. I tried to read the graphiti, see what the errant papers on the street were preaching – what were the people here concerned about? probably survival.

About one block away i could see an open bar – at 6am? What bar was open at this time? its lighted sign in the window was hanging haphazardly and its glaring red name belted out at me. There was a figure leaning in the doorway against the frame and as i neared it became clearer and my focus could make out a feminine shape. As i neared i saw the lines of her body – so curvy, elegant and undeniably feminine. Her head appeared shaved and she was smoking in a slow and seductive manner – the cigarette being so gracefully lowered from above down to her lips. A great slow inhale and then the feeling of mass relaxation as she exhaled slightly tilting her head upwards. Her breasts, slim waist, and gentle body snug in her low cut cocktail dress as her eyes followed me. my feet made sound on the pavement in the stillness of the morning and i was scheduled to inevitably pass her doorway any moment. she was languid and my curiosity about what i would read in her delicate face drew near as I inadvertently glanced over to capture the lines on her face and the story in her eyes but this all fell aside with the discovery of the 5 o’clock shadow creeping up over her jawline and darkening her cheeks. I was shocked and looked away abruptly trying to hide ruffledness from my former fascination. “Her” body and movements had been so refined and feminine…

I carried on through the streets for hours absorbing details and sights in this mysterious section of montreal trying to visualize what goes on behind the doors. time evaded and i turned back towards the station. I mounted the bus and regained my seat once more to pass through the changing wild terrain of Canada from my stage coach window.

We drove and as we passed by Toronto I reflected on being there with Ned. We had gone to Gravenhurst, a beautiful little summer town outside of Toronto to see friends and explore the area. little did i know that in ten years i would be sitting as a well-dressed woman watching the Phantom of the Opera in the Toronto opera house beside the father of my child…

but for now life would seem to return to the mundane and regular as i returned to my rural high school to graduate and then move to the main city of Victoria for college life… but life has a way of opening up

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