I've given all my shelves away, the wardrobe that weighed fifty pounds that I shipped back from Australia, various chairs, patio furniture, the sturdy table from my art room, boxes and boxes of clothes. It feels good to get rid of some things, and I've had enough experience coming upon things secondhand to know that I can get more when and if I should need them. Trying to go as light as possible, hoping it will all fit into my car and a friend's truck, and then my parent's garage. I wonder how long they will let me store things there without complaint. Feel very fortunate to have that option rather than having to spend money on a storage locker somewhere. A third truck is available for the move tomorrow, and I might need it. I also feel fortunate to have friends who are willing to take the time out of their busy lives to help me move. Big dinner out at the Mineshaft Pub tomorrow night. Makes me think of when I first drove up here with my sister Stephanie. It was June 2011 and I had applied for the job even though I had never visited the town. It seemed surreal then, like we had stepped into another timezone. Back in time. Now living here feels completely second nature, as natural as dreaming. The roads used to seem foreign and vacant but I became used to that too--to the flow of life here--to my own space, vast and empty and pregnant with silence.
July is fairly breezy in terms of plans. I was planning on rushing off to the Oregon Coast to surf, but now that I plan on taking a self-imposed sabbatical I think I will wait to surf when the waves are bigger and crowds are thinner in the fall and winter. I might actually spend a week or two in North Vancouver, something I have not done since I moved rural almost three years ago. The thought actually excites me, as I know it will be temporary and I can re-charge with a heavy dose of city stimulation. The arts! How I miss the arts living here!
I have a number of things on the list for July, like going through all the material that I have written to find some common threads of story. Writing. Daily writing. Playing the guitar on a blanket at a park in the sun, grass between my bare toes. Going to art shows, to music shows, walking the busy streets where no one knows who I am, where I came from, or where I am going. A contrast before I move along to explore some different small towns. Nothing as small as Gold Bridge though I am sure.
We had our year-end ceremony this week. I tried not to cry, but as my principal was talking and thanking me for all of my hard work my lip started quivering, and then that was it. I kept it under control, not the gasping-for-air sobbing but instead a steady sniffle and tearing. The parents and community members in attendance gave me a standing ovation. It is such a wonderful feeling to be so appreciated and to feel like I will be missed as much as I will miss this place.
Couple more tears as I closed up the school this afternoon, locking my keys inside so that they are there on the desk when the other teacher opens up the doors for the fall with her second set. The culmination of a distinctive era in my career, in my life, really. But I'll be back. This place has a way of weaving itself into the heart, and there's still much exploring I'd like to do around here.
The last weeks of school were great, but I am absolutely exhausted. Full days of work and then full evenings of sorting, packing, moving furniture to houses, moving plants, moving. Many experiential lessons and such, but the time is wandering on and I still have things to pack and a last bath in the giant soaker tub to succumb to. I am sure going to miss this place. The people, the school, the students, the history, the walks, this house. But it is time to seek somewhere new. A new place to call home. It's strange to think about all the possibilities. For a while I am going to gypsy around to see what my options are. And then some new road will reveal itself. It always does.
No comments:
Post a Comment