Friday, Jun. 10, 2016 @ 1:58 pm
I drive my coworkers up towards the mountains. At the helm of a minivan. I'd forgotten that my first car was a minivan, and the height and feel of the sway of the van along the Coquihalla is familiar and comforting. We pass through the hustle of the Fraser Valley, and it's raining in Hope. It's always raining in Hope. The weather breaks as we crest the summit of the Coquihalla, and the air is dry and hot once we land in Merritt.
I drive the van into the dusty, rundown town. This place doesn't change. I drive us all to the bakery that I discovered a while back, on an adventurous mission into the old heart of downtown, finally done with the soulless offerings at gas station land on the side of the highway. It's a great bakery, and I'm so proud to direct a pile of cash towards these people, these people with heart and courage, rather than towards yet another meal from a paper bag from a drive thru.
We carry on through the desert, the trees heavy with early cherries. The sun blazing, the air dry, the hills just barely still green from spring growth.
In the mountains, the lupines bloom in radiant purple haze. Mountains, real mountains, and I'm so happy to be here. The air crisp, trout flopping on the surface of the river, fireweed gracefully swaying, in the shadow of snow-trimmed giants.
The weekend flashes past. I facilitate a conference session on communications skills. I stand up there and my shoulders are square and you know what? I actually enjoyed it. After the session, I found myself energized and excited. The ideas that the participants contributed. The combined thoughts, energy. Synergy. I created this.
I sit in the bank, two men talking at me about my money. I'm sitting there with these men, realizing that I'm at the point where I have a real financial advisor, and I just hired a broker to manage my investments. And we're making a retirement plan. They're really interested in my money, and I'm no fool to see that they can make money from me, but in order for them to make money I have to make money, so it's win-win if not a little creepy. The broker asks me about my career and home life. It's a page straight from How to Win Friends. I turn it all around and ask him about his family. I'm laughing in my head becuase we're both playing the same game.
"Plans for kids?"
I see his expression change. It's subtle, but he's immediately embarrassed. I feel badly - it's an honest question when discussing one's financial future. But as soon as he asked, I thought about my fertility chart - at 120 days post pill with no ovulation - and still no answers. So, I really should have just said something easy and congenial like Maybe! Don't know yet!, but it just hit hard.