I cried a lot this weekend. Can't blame it on PMS this time, though. I don't want to blame it on anything, actually. I just want to accept it. Accept the fact that I am sad about my two best friends moving away. Accept the fact that I am just plain lonely. Accept the fact that sometimes it is hard to revisit the past.
That's basically what I did these past two days. Revisited the past. As mentioned, I am going back to my roots, and while camp is not where my life's journey started, it plays a major roll in it.
Saturday was a pretty typical rainy day, only I woke up in this dark mood that carried into the early afternoon. I dropped my wallet in a puddle at the gas station. All my money fell out and scattered. The machine took like a gazillion years to process my debit card. I was late picking up my girl. I dropped my muffin which was so dirty even I wouldn't eat it. Everything was just crappy.
But then we got to the ferry, and somehow we had made it in time for the early afternoon sailing that we never thought we could catch. Hmm...life started looking up a bit at that point. After a few hours of catch-up conversation, a People magazine, and BC Ferries ice cream, I felt better. Shopping (aka retail-therepy) helped a lot, too.
But I actually think that while shopping and making the ferry on time and everything was good, the real reason I had started to feel better was because I realized that, in a way, I was home. I didn't live on the Island for too long, but starting about 11 years ago I began spending every summer of my life until I was 20 there. I have so many memories there, both good and bad. And as if it was orchestrated, all those memories unravelled this past weekend.
I spent Saturday night with my two best friends, having lovely dinner and drinkies at Milestones on the waterfront and catching SatC2 at Tillicum Theatre. We stayed up till about 3:30am talking and giggling as only true friends can, and woke up at 8am exhausted. Surprise, surprise. It was glorious.
Yesterday, two of us drove up island to go back to camp. Cue: Tears. We hadn't even made it to Duncan yet when the tears started to flow. And how. I actually felt a little out of control of my emotions. It reminded me of my very favourite Dane Cook impression. Watch it. You will know why. But I think the reason I (ahem, we) cried so hard is because, like I said before, revisiting the past is freaking hard. Yes, millions of amazing memories are wrapped up in the time spent at that camp and on the Island. But for me, that time in my life also represents incredible brokenness, insecurity, and pain.
It took me a long time to calm down enough to grasp, even shallowly, the fact that I am not the same girl as I was 6 years ago. Maybe she is still there inside of me, but I am so much more now. So much has taken place between then and now, and I feel like that is really a good thing.
So once the crying shenanigans ceased, we got back in the car and drove to the camp...My heart was pounding. Literally. I was nervous. But I can't deny the fact that I was actually pretty excited, too. We started bumping down the gravel road and came to the sign that always made me feel like I was being welcomed home. And it aaallll came pouring back.
The rain was totally appropriate, because I was being soaked head to toe in some of the most amazing memories and feelings. I began to wonder what I was so scared about earlier in the car. This felt so right. It felt like home. It felt like me. It felt like some of my roots were being exposed, and I didn't even mind.
I can't tell you how many deep, live-giving, incredible breaths of air I took yesterday, but it was a lot. We walked around the whole property, all 56 acres of scenic waterfront property, and literally had comments and memories and giggles and tears for every inch of that place.
There's no place like home. There's no place like home. There's no place like home.
It was an amazing weekend getaway with the people in my life I am most thankful for. I will never forget it. Ever.
~C~
