I was able to leave the house without a coat today. The unbridled feeling of freedom, of coming out of hiding. It brought to mind memories from two years ago, when I ventured out to Vancouver for three days, leaving the spring air chill behind me in Ontario. It was the first time I was able to take off my jacket that year, and I’d felt the warmth of breezes rolling in off the ocean water around Stanley Park. I spent those days breathing the odour of cherry blossom trees in deeply, eating fresh sushi and drinking Kokanee over Coupland.
There is freedom in a new city. There is possibility. Spend too much time in a city and things cease to be new and promising. Circumstances cloud the brain. They simply become the way things are, rather than the way things could be. I was raised to move around. I spent my childhood heading from place to place, and haven’t stopped since. Other than an eight-month stretch spent collecting a graduate degree in Toronto and a few short weeks gallivanting through European centres, it’s been a nine-year stint in Ottawa. I spent my 20s here, and with my 30s before me, it’s time to keep moving.
This is not a post about Ottawa. That will no doubt come. This is simply a brief note to say that it will be a summer move. Probably August. Why Vancouver? Because I’ve only got so much time, and I haven’t lived there yet. Because it’s far away, and I’ve always heard great things about far away. Because it’s a schizophrenic little city that has doubled for every other city on the planet in movies, and as a lover of movies, it just wouldn’t make sense to live anywhere but everywhere. I’m ready. To Vancouver.