Home Sweet Home
I wish you could see what I see.
Here, from my spot on the sofa, surrounded by mostly darkness, comforted by the string of light globes that are twinkling on my living room floor, I look out the window and take in this snow-capped world.
Everything is blanketed in pristine white. Feather-light flurries drift down from the black sky to meet the soft, pillowy-looking ground. This view that I've become so familiar with is now completely transformed. It is magical. It is calm.
I wish you could hear what I hear.
A hauntingly beautiful voice, chanting to the rhythmic beat of drums, is filling my house and ears. But if I were to turn off the music, my ears would instead be filled with the sweet sound of silence. No chattering of voices. No clanging of pots. No banging of cupboard doors. No sirens. No horns. No traffic. Nothing. This, this serene silence, is the true music to my ears.
And I wish you could feel what I feel.
Yes, there is an oppressive anvil of fatigue weighing down on my chest and seeping deep into my bones. But there is also peace. I actually feel peaceful.
I fought so hard to keep going amidst the chaos of being back in the city for so long and in that time, I rarely felt any sense of peace. My system was far too overloaded and fried but now, alone at last, it's slowly starting to settle and unwind.
As my eyelids continue to droop further and further down, heavy with fatigue, a sign that it's far past the time when I should have gone to bed (it is past 1:30am after all), there's something else I feel.
Gratitude. To finally be here, alone in my quiet sanctuary, is a gift. A profound gift from so many generous, compassionate souls. It is still surreal to me that one year ago, I had none of this. I hadn't even ever been to Port Alberni. But then miracles began to happen as we took action. Feeling the closest to death you've ever felt before and the fear that comes with that is powerful motivation for swallowing your qualms and doing whatever it takes to save your life.
And so here I am. Deeply grateful, filled with peace, revelling in the solitude and silence, happy to be home.
Yes, this is home.