SWORDFERN
Rooted, I used to think.

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Giving Notice - Friday, Sept. 29, 2017
Accepting Offers - Tuesday, Sept. 26, 2017
Indian/Polish Wedding - Thursday, Sept. 21, 2017
The Builder - Wednesday, Sept. 13, 2017
Rupert Part II - Sunday, Sept. 10, 2017


Friday, Dec. 12, 2003 @ 12:50 am
Entering a Normal Person's Life



Over the Burrard bridge, rain pouring down, three lanes of white headlights, three lanes of red tail lights. Green, yellow, red. Lights everywhere, everything fast, and the radio stations coming in strong and clear.

What am I doing here, back in this city, back on these streets that seem unchanged? Seven months away and it all seem so strange but so familiar.

I wandered down to the beach, during a little Kits basement suite party, and walked the same low tide as last night. It's just not the same here. It's not dark. Traffic sounds mix with the breaking waves.

I look down at all the footprints (and raindrops) in the well-worn sand and congratulate myself. "You got yourself a job in the city."

The day plays out in my head. Five am: rain on the roof of the cabin and me pacing within. Seven am: making coffee. Nine am: falling alseep on the kitchen floor. Eleven am: buckling the lifejacket and watching the rotors warm up above my head. One pm: "You are five minutes early. I thought the ferries weren't running yet?" Three pm: celebratory sushi in the village with Sarah.

(Note: black rubber boots apparently pass for acceptable interview footwear if you buff them up a bit)

I start work on Tuesday. My vehicle/clothes/shoes/stuff are on Salt Spring. Oh yeah, and half a month of seal feeding shifts to disperse. What a mess.

I need somewhere to live.


Roots | Shoots