Last.
I'm very glad that I get to spend this last night at The Welcome Home in a room that was never really mine, but houses what was my window seat. The autumn breeze is singularly poetic, and the view is full of memories. And change.I can see the construction from where I sit now.
And, in a strange little twist, the arrival of a dozen interlopers has given me the opportunity to spend an evening in essentials. A stroll across the Provencher Bridge as the sun set- essentially Winnipeg. Making myself at home at Lesia's: essentially Welcome Homie.
Charles, who is from London, and is, frankly, gorgeous, engaged me in conversation as we walked the riverbank path back to The Forks. His speaking distance was closer than mine, and I found myself pushed invisibly to the edge of the path. If he weren't a novice, I would have thought he was flirting and been glad of it. God gets the good ones.
When we sat in Lesia's living room over wine and cheese, I was glad (not for the first time) that I had lived in the North and could be interesting to a crowd of foreigners. Though Saskatchewan is a bit exotic for them; they laughed at the joke about the dog running away. They will see their fill of flatness in the coming days. We talked about the Northern Lights, and Charles said, loudly, "I think Peter knows a song about the northern lights." Peter sang, "The Northern Lights of Aberdeen." It was one of those beautiful moments that occurs in a group of people that trust one another. I said something flippant about our Canadian songs, and I ended up singing "Canada's Really Big." Way to kill the moment, Sarah.
We leave tomorrow early for Yorkton. How do you say goodbye to a place? I've been giving hugs to people, and tomorrow I will throw my pyjamas into my bag, and somehow haul it down the stairs, and travel on with my community until it is time to return home. Perhaps that is why The Welcome Home has such a hold on people: it's impossible to really sat goodbye.
And, in a strange little twist, the arrival of a dozen interlopers has given me the opportunity to spend an evening in essentials. A stroll across the Provencher Bridge as the sun set- essentially Winnipeg. Making myself at home at Lesia's: essentially Welcome Homie.
Charles, who is from London, and is, frankly, gorgeous, engaged me in conversation as we walked the riverbank path back to The Forks. His speaking distance was closer than mine, and I found myself pushed invisibly to the edge of the path. If he weren't a novice, I would have thought he was flirting and been glad of it. God gets the good ones.
When we sat in Lesia's living room over wine and cheese, I was glad (not for the first time) that I had lived in the North and could be interesting to a crowd of foreigners. Though Saskatchewan is a bit exotic for them; they laughed at the joke about the dog running away. They will see their fill of flatness in the coming days. We talked about the Northern Lights, and Charles said, loudly, "I think Peter knows a song about the northern lights." Peter sang, "The Northern Lights of Aberdeen." It was one of those beautiful moments that occurs in a group of people that trust one another. I said something flippant about our Canadian songs, and I ended up singing "Canada's Really Big." Way to kill the moment, Sarah.
We leave tomorrow early for Yorkton. How do you say goodbye to a place? I've been giving hugs to people, and tomorrow I will throw my pyjamas into my bag, and somehow haul it down the stairs, and travel on with my community until it is time to return home. Perhaps that is why The Welcome Home has such a hold on people: it's impossible to really sat goodbye.