The rocky road home
And all the crap waiting for you when you get there
After pushing my flights out for months at a time waiting for it to be safer, I am finally home. I haven’t been here in three years. Before you judge me for travelling at all, just know that I am here to help my family out with some things and everyone’s vaccinated and all that. (Bella Coola was a priority town for early vaccination.)
Like all things you build up in your head, my return home has been, quite literally, rocky. On the Hill, a rock took out the pan under the transmission and I leaked transmission fluid for the last two hours but somehow made it home before it all dumped out in the carport, sending my dad into stress sweats and limiting our ability to get around town at all.
One of my tasks while I’m here is to go through (and get rid of) all of the crap I didn’t even know my mom was holding onto. Some of the treasures I’ve found include:
the glass eyes my grandpa left me when he died
my teenage poetry (wish I’d known this was here for teen angst night)
all of my track/soccer/logger sports/mathlete/basketball trophies, medals and participation ribbons
several very dark stories written as a child, including a Pony Pals fan fic in which two of the main girls die (one of a horse kick, the other of land mines placed at the hospital by the distraught third, who now sheds a tear every time she sees a horse)
my Junior Forest Warden uniform which is exactly what you’d expect
my twirling baton (a hobby I forgot I had)
my stamp collection (again, a hobby I completely forgot I had)
All of my university papers (highlights: Céline Dion: A Canadian Creator; Communication within cults: Cults as advertising agents; and Ladies First: The problematic notions of authenticity and feminism surrounding the dialogue of sexual politics with female rappers - my only A+ paper ever)
The word art brochure of my first ever business - PatCall’s pets - which I used as a workaround when my parents said I couldn’t get a dog.
It’s a weird snapshot of my strange childhood, but I’m glad I got to look at it one more time before throwing it all out.
Have you had to do the great childhood purge yet? What treasures did you find? Let me know and I’ll include anonymously in the next newsletter.
Best thing I’ve heard this week
“She’s like the friggin’ Gestapo,” said my mother to my friend’s grandmother at the grocery store as she described my lack of sentimentality in forcing her to choose between keeping a Christmas tree star or a Christmas tree angel. You can’t have both.
I miss errand hangs. Judge Judy ends this fall - how did it all begin? The Pope still won’t apologize for residential schools. My neighbours are fighting a homophobic MLM mega church trying to move into our neighbourhood and our petition to keep them out.
Hope you have a lovely rest of your week.