I thought I’d have a different post for you this morning — I started writing it yesterday, trying to wrestle with the various emotions I’m jumping through, back here by myself in our small apartment surrounded by post-moving clutter, a cool-ish June Vancouver outside, my island life no longer structuring my daily choices. Trying to write about why it was good to create some space elsewhere (sunny Ottawa and Montreal) in a hotel room with a fabulous view and someone to make my bed and change my towels, days organised by morning runs, lunches with friends, old and new, dinners with my husband in a different restaurant each night, blackout blinds and well-designed hotel beds ensuring good sleep after weeks and weeks without.
And trying to articulate how what I’m feeling isn’t particularly sadness but involves a certain melancholy. Trying to explain how I budge the melancholy with activity, trying to reassure that I’m moving past it with projects and planning, and that overall I’m excited, anticipating what comes next. . . although admittedly with some trepidation.
But it’s taking me much longer to write than I thought, and I suspect I’m going to have to divide it into several posts. I’m meeting my sister at 6:30 (yes! a.m! she’s like that! — and I’ve been awake since before 4 anyway — jetlag!) for our first run together since I became an official Vancouver resident, and before I head off, I want to wish you a Happy Monday! Start of a new week, all the possibilities. Want to let you know I’m working on some words. Feeling the feels, as the kids say. . . .
Colour pops courtesy of my iPhone 6Plus and Ottawa’s Byward Market, where I had a great chat with the 75-year-old woman whose family grows these gorgeous radishes, one of the few farmer-vendors left at the Marché, so tough a business has agriculture become. . .
Comments always welcome, as you know by now. . .
I can certainly understand that feeling of melancholy. You're saying goodbye to a phase of life, and even though a new one beckons, it's still that recognition of time passing. There's something so life-affirming about lovely produce at the marché though, isn't there? I can almost smell those berries!
It's so true, Sue — that vibrancy and vigour might be what draws me to any market, especially in berry season. Perhaps against the linearity of time passing, it poses the reassurance of the cyclical?
Lovely basil!
Do I recognize asparagus and rhubarb?
I've feeling of a bit of melancholy too-but sun will shine on us soon 🙂
Little everyday things,change will bring something nice….
One has to be patient and open to new things,don't you think?
At the beginning of something,paths to be made…
Can't wait the big post!
Dottoressa
Yes! There is rhubarb there and asparagus as well — and you can almost smell the basil, right?
Patience and openness and hope and faith, yes to all!
You are bound to be experiencing a roller coaster of emotions…you are embarking on a new chapter and until you are settled into your new home you are in limbo…feel the feels and plan for some fun and before you know it September will be here.
Enjoy your day.
Exactly the word — limbo! But at least this is one I can escape from, and all I have to do is wait until September. Thanks for the encouragement.
You're going through some huge changes Mater – I guess your instinct is to work your way through the emotions by writing about them, but there's no hurry. As Hostess says, you are in limbo – but that can also be a breathing space. I've always loved it when we've had hotel time between houses, you don't have the same sort of responsibilities. I'm sure that the words will come to you soon enough. In the meantime, enjoy getting used to being full-time in the big city!
You know it — writing is my way of seeing clearly what I'm feeling and moving through. Breathing space. This is a really useful way to see this time. Better than limbo which implies stuck-ness. I just need to re-frame. Thanks again for the lovely lunch!
What an excellent idea to have some decompression time (and a touch of pampering) between your two homes. Good luck with the falling into place and the establishing of new ways
It worked really well, Ceri, and I'd highly recommend it. Thanks for the good wishes and the luck.
It has taken me about a year to work thru the transition, in limbo, adjustment to a different life. We moved from a small country town to a suburb in the city. Some small regrets as I live thru the reality of – I thought we would … Which way does my autopilot point when I think Home? Not sure, but getting to feel settled here.
Ah, that's an interesting question — that about the autopilot. I remember being in England at 18, a year after my parents had moved us to a lovely big heritage house which I loved, but when I thought "Home" I moved through the rooms of the home I'd grown up in. That recognition stuck with me, somehow, and you bring it back to mind. Good to hear from someone who's gone through some of this, to give myself permission to take a year or so to adjust. Thank you.
I wondered this morning as Stu and I were off for our morning walk, how your homecoming had been. Transition-home-coming… sort of. The alone time might be a bit lonely especially after your jam-packed visit east. But might be good to not have to explain emotions, melancholy or otherwise, to anyone. You must feel like saying as you run (not out loud of course…that would be weird)… "Hello, Vancouver. It's me Frances. I live here now."
You got it! Paul felt bad that his work was going to keep him another few days, but I told him I thought that, while it might be hard and a bit lonely, I thought a few days by myself sorting through would be best right now.
And don't completely dismiss the notion that I might (weirdly) chat aloud with the city as I run. . . 😉
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Such beautiful photos! Now that the move from the Island has been made, I'm sure that your emotions will bubble up. It will be nice for you to have the possibility
of early morning sister runs. I think early rising runs in families. My brother is up and at it cycling or kayaking very early in the summer mornings. I've been 4:30 lately. We crash very early though. Monsieur and I are at an inn in Washington State as I write. Dining-room meals and forest walks are great!
4:30 for me as well, and I can't just blame the jetlag.
Enjoy your time away — dining-room meals and forest walks sound perfect!
It's all about establishing new rhythms in life. All change during holidays and that's fun. But back to your make do apartment for now is very transitional and it will be hard to set up a real home rhythm. No doubt having family so close will make up for it. Enjoy your week. B x
That's precisely what I'm looking for — rhythms to my day — and you're so right that the while-we're-waiting space makes that tough. But yes, having family close makes up, and today, I'm disrupting my rhythm by picking my g'daughter up from preschool. Not so bad at all! 😉
Happy Monday to you, Mater! Finding new rhythms and settling into new spaces takes time – give yourself that. It has been cool lately, hasn't it? Here's hoping it warms up soon.
I'd like it to be warmer, yes, although Ottawa's heat was enough to caution me a bit, and I'm remembering last summer's drought. . .
Your life is suddenly different so it doesn't surprise me that it's bringing up all kinds of feelings. The grief of a large move merged with the excitement of a new adventure – it's a bit much to manage with constant equanimity 🙂 But how awesome that you can run with your sister! That's what this is all about, right?
You know it! Everything you say is spot on. Constant equanimity is unreasonable to expect, isn't it? Funny to see so clearly that no one else expects that of me, but I'm somehow judging myself against that standard.
And yes, that ability to be so close to family is what this is all about.
This is my first comment after following for a long time. I recognize that wistful, melancholy feeling when we left the city and anticipate it when we will leave 25 years of country beauty for small town/suburbia a year from now. Maybe we will follow your example of a brief sojourn in a beautiful city. Meanwhile, next month we'll see your beautiful city for the first time!
I'm so pleased to read your comment here, Sharon. Thanks for following all this time and thanks for sharing your parallel experience and for reminding me that the wistfulness yields to our absorption into new beauties. Can't wait to see what you think of our city — I hope you'll stay in touch via the comments. Also hope the weather warms up for you a bit. Summer's still just stuttering here. . .
I imagine you'll be feeling a huge range of emotions during the next few weeks, maybe longer. In particular this week as you're on your own at home. Lovely to have your sister as a running companion though! As Sue comments, you probably feel lonelier, after having such a wonderful week away. I nearly always feel a little "out of sorts" and often tearful when we've been away. Especially if we've spent time with family. I always want everyone back at home with me! I really enjoy "alone time" but it can be hard after happy times spent with family and friends.
Take care …we're always here for a chat!
Rosie
It's true, Rosie. As much as I think it was important for me to have that time on my own, it felt more lonely than usual, probably because of the contrast with such a social time.
I meant to add, thanks for the colourful pics. I can't wait to visit Byward market. I'll look out for the lady with the radishes! Think they'll be hard to miss …they look amazing!
Rosie
She has a good story, that woman with the radishes. She's in her mid-70s, no longer does the physical work of gardening, and she has a feisty attitude, very positive. 😉
Your wonderful photos of Ottawa's Byward market have made me a little homesick! The first 34 years of my life were spent in Ottawa and then I moved to Boston (for love). This is "home" now, but, I imagine if I moved from here, I would again feel the melancholy. Each place where we put down roots shapes us in some way, and for me, at least, moving felt like a loss. When I think about it, my routine of twice weekly visits to the Byward market is still fresh in my mind and that's definitely a good memory I have brought with me. Boston my home today and we've written many new chapters in the "memory book" here!
Wishing you much joy in your new abode.
Mira
That's how I feel, mira, shaped by each home we've lived in, and even ones from thirty and forty years ago still hold memories that feel fresh. We do carry those homes and places along with us, and I'm looking forward to integrating the old and the new into my memory book as you've already done. Thanks!
About three weeks after the move-in, I was walking around, trying to find a particular place which was not where I thought and realized there wasn't one person I could call for help. On the same day the new owner called to carol her delight over the garden which had been buried in snow when they bought. Whew, that was a rough day.
While I occasionally miss "my birds" or "my window", the things I lost diminished in potency and simply became memories of another time and place. Bon courage and get in there to measure up the new place!
Oh, I know that moment, although it's a long time since I've had to feel it — for me, it was being in a new place with small kids and realizing I had no one to leave them with if I needed to go to the dentist. But we build those networks again in new homes — it's hard to believe you've only lived in Montreal five years, you're so obviously at home there now. (must have been very tough to muster enthusiasm for the new owner's discovery, altho' lovely to know your garden was appreciated)
Your new adventure is bound to be emotional. If you feel like exploring your emotions here, you may find it helps more women than you think :). PS- you need an updated blog description. Beautiful pictures.
Thanks, Jennifer. That's just the right thing to say — makes me feel better for talking too much about the emotional dips. . . and you're absolutely right. I'm going to have to sort out a new blog description — it will probably have to be transitional as well. . . 😉
Moving is an emotional rollercoaster. It's no wonder that you feel a bit of melancholy as you transition from a place that's been your home for many years. I suspect part of the feeling might be the result of the absence of the routines associated with home.
I want to eat a salad with some of those colorful radishes!
"We do carry those homes and places along with us" – how true indeed! I'm one of your younger, fairly long time reader from Australia (in my 30s). I haven't commented before but I quite like your blog and relate with your writing. I have moved quite a bit in past 10 years so totally understand that melancholy. Thank you! Swapna
' feeling the feels' yes I like that expression. The temporary 'homes' in hotel rooms etc probably quite apposite for this in-between time in your life. Great shots of the market stalls by the way X