Picture this. A 36-year-old standing in the middle of a busy Ottawa junction – smiling ears to ears. He remembered this feeling of 15 years ago when he was first here. A student from Penn. On a shoestring budget. No smartphone. No GPS. Just a sense of endless wonder and a fearless wish for #pureadventures.
The leaves are yellow, green, orange, and red. And I felt like I flew across the country just for this, for. taste of the fall in an old architectural Canada. The museums were a fun treat. Although I do notice that I’m naturally drawn to couples on the streets, in the dinner, at the museum. I’m drawn to young couples and old couples and the unbearable normalcy of it all. I wonder what happened to me as I grew older. I have always been a bit sentimental, but with age, I’ve become sappy and dependent and comfortable in my own happiness; which should be a good thing. It feels unexplainable not a good thing. Perhaps it’s this weird anxiety that all of this will be taken away from me at some point. Perhaps it’s this weird anxiety of me losing my edge because hardship has always made me a stronger and tougher person.
I am meeting 2 of my high school friends again – from separate friend circles. It’s been 15 years since I’ve seen one of them. Even longer for the other. We’ve been to different countries. We are all married now. They have kids. They are talking about taking the kids out tomorrow for Hallowween. One of them moved from Toronto to Ottawa to pursue “the girl of their dreams” and to settle down. Do people really do that for love? I guess I’m not the only one. 😉
I often think about the people I left behind in my endless quest for growth and pure adventures. I miss my friends in Vietnam. I miss my friends in Singapore. I ache for the sign of Locust walk and the Philadelphia train stations and Penn Locust walk. I miss traveling. I miss the sight and sound and scent of a city. Messy. Dirty. But alive. I often think about whether they think about me? What do they say about me? Do the unbearable lightness of our interactions and our history weave into their story to their spouse, the kids? Probably not. But once in a while, I see photos from 13 years ago and I thought. “Of course we don’t always remember everything, or even who said what when, but all my friends have written a part of my story and form particles of my being”
I do miss living in a big city with an art scene, with charming public arts, with museums and with boardwalk. I do miss walking 10-20km a day. Not much the people and the shopping, but the stores themselves. Probably that’s why I have always loved Ottawa and Montreal. It has the charm of the city without the crowds of people (Erhmm, i.e. Vancouver or Toronto)
Traveling solo is great. I think. As much as I miss my family and my hubby, I think it reminds me that I am very much comfortable with myself, that I still have some sense of independence and adventures left. It reminds me how far I’ve come from that young restless student, exposed for the first time in the big wide world. I’ve become an old restless heart, longing for belonging but fighting to expand and stay alive.
And such, is the core of my unexplainable internal conflict. He who always want to leave worldly ties behind to be free, yet always long to belong somewhere with someone in a familiar comfort of being loved.
Pace Fine Arts 