I turned 30 in Vegas (when I first started dating Dan). So I guess it’s fitting that I turned 40 in California (being married to him). It seems like a changing of the season, of a page being turned, or even an entire new book written. I said I loved him on the night of my birthday 10 years ago. I have said it almost every day since. Maybe, just maybe, we have a chance at many more 10 years together, traveling, fighting about directions, teasing about bad weather, and even worse museum obsession. Maybe, just maybe, we can be those old people in love. Gross.
It’s a strange feeling, to be inside America during this iteration of America. America has always been on the more conservative side of North America, but this iteration seems unsettling, chaotic, and outright hostile. On our flight to San Francisco, we watched the tariff being announced in Canada. On the eve of my birthday, we saw Canadians booed the US National anthem. Towards the end of the trip, we see our own Premier repeated false talking points about an imaginary Canada border drug issue just because the president of fake news said it and our “leader” is part of his cult. We drove into part of California that was impacted by the fire and mudslide. It rained the entire week we’re here, in “sunny California”. The ocean is angry. She’s unsettling. The sky is gloomy. It’s this feeling of thread and threat, of the chaotic beauty of steadfast unraveling.
It’s also a strange feeling to redo this trip. 15 years ago, a wide-eyed 25-year-old followed a similar path (in reverse from San Diego to San Francisco and then Yosemite and then a separate trip from la to Vegas and all the Canyon) in a Mazda Miata with a much older man. A lot of conflicting feelings resurfaced. I was so young, so insecure, and so desperately wanting to belong. Back then, the weather was warm and gorgeous. My older date was warm and gorgeous. Yet the sense of rejection and isolation was overwhelming. It’s a constant reminder that I wasn’t wanted, that I wasn’t enough, that my value was only as far as what I can offer to do for others. This time, my family was with me. Dan was with me. My in-laws were with me. Kelly was with me. It’s rainy and cold the whole way. But we had fun. I was made to feel special. I was loved. I even got free ice cream from a restaurant. As I always said, “In America, the weather is warm, but the people are cold. In Canada, the weather is cold, but the people are a lot warmer”. Belonging and home is not a place. It’s the people who love you and celebrate you and welcome you into their lives. And for that, I’m forever grateful.
As we were leaving San Diego, the sun came out. We even saw whales and dolphins. There were even shirtless men on the beach. In a country, and a world, where the climate is changing, the political stability is changing, and the people are constantly changing, it’s an important reminder that the sun will eventually come back. (It might swallow us whole, but I’m choosing to close on a positive note). Humans are resilient. Minorities are resilient. Queer people are resilient. Our communities are resilient. We will find joy. We will celebrate.
I will celebrate. 40. 50. 60. Maybe I can even make it to 70 like that old Vietnamese idiom always says. Until then, I’m glad the festivities are over, and I’ll be back home in with comfortable bed, with my neurotic puppy, and with our renewed sense of pride and privilege to be a Canadian.
Pace Fine Arts 