My shiny little online spot to help y'all keep track of me while I galavant around London.

Monday, May 22, 2006

Checked out

Before my parents left on Saturday, they/we did the following:

  • Monday, got my flatmates drunk and fed in order to thank them;
  • Tuesday, wandered around Regents Park and did some shopping and something else which escapes my mushy brain;
  • Wednesday, met up with me near Spitalfields, then went on a Ghouls, Gaslight and Guinness walking tour, despite the rain -- which was good for the atmosphere, actually;
  • Thursday, in keeping with the ghostly theme, saw Phantom of the Opera;
  • Friday, went out for dinner and sat in a pub.

Among other things. Since they left, I've slept. I'm tired and I'm sick-- indeed, I'm sick and tired. I can barely remember what we did this week. Compiling the above list required more effort than it should have and I'm not even sure of its accuracy. A month of vacation is tiring. A month of work is tiring. Doing both, simultaneously, in one month, is exhausting.

But the thing is: a month long visit, it's just not long enough.

I want all the people I care about, love and miss in one place and I want to be in that place -- but that's not ever going to happen again, is it? Indeed, that wouldn't happen even if I still lived in Calgary, to be honest.

I remember the first person who "left" Calgary and was therefore to be missed by me: Jolaine, moving to Minot, ND -- of all the places -- for university. And since then, lots of people have moved, travelled, come back and left -- likely -- forever. Mel went to Olds and thankfully -- for me and for her -- came back again. Nat travelled to China, sure, for four months, but four looong months -- just ask Daorcey and the good folks at Boston Pizza. South, to Ottawa, crushing the happy Gauntlet family. Michelle, to Lethbridge, taking the living room furniture with her. James to Halifax and a perfect life. Sonia to Toronto and an MBA. Mike to China. Mary and Esther and even Rob to Edmonton. Kris to who knows where and who knows what. And then hell, I come out here, make shiny new friends. And then they move on, like Ann, who moved back to T.O. from London.

Okay, there might be a joke here about how everyone runs away from me no matter where I go.

But I guess you get used to it. Or more used to it? I remember when Jolaine left, man, did I feel devestated. Bawled my eyes out. I was, I should note, 17 and drunk. On two liters worth of Kiwi-Strawberry Coolers. But it was also the end of the summer after high school, so movie-like, it probably felt significant to my melodramatic teenaged brain.

But then, I still bawl like an idiot. Ask my parents about me crying in the airport. Or ask Nat and Daorcey about me sobbing after their wedding -- again, drunk and overemotional.

I'm not sure I'll ever get used to missing people and I suppose I shouldn't want to. If I didn't miss you lot, and had no one to miss, that'd be quite a bit worse, then, wouldn't it?

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3 Comments:

Blogger Daorcey said...

There's something philosophical that can be found in all of that, Nicole.

And while I will continue to bring up the fact that you cried in the back of our car while we drove back to the hotel after the wedding (if only to give you a hard time and laugh a little), I know we don't feel too far off from that sentiment.

Some days everyone feels further away than they should be.

23/5/06

 
Blogger Nicole said...

I'm just glad I managed to stave off crying like an idiot until after the wedding...

24/5/06

 
Blogger Nicole said...

Actually, that's a lie. I cried during the ceremony too. It's your dad's fault. He started tearing up, and caught my eye, and the image of your dad -- your happy, cheerful dad -- with tears in his eyes totally set me off.

Then we joked about it after. I felt we bonded.

24/5/06

 

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