the break up.

One beautiful west coast spring evening, I sat stunned on my bed. Stunned, with a  glass of chewy red in hand. I was for the record, a living, breathing trifecta. I was stunned, buzzed, and struggling to say out loud five words.

I tried uttering the sentence with different intonations, like Lady J has advised, that one time at band camp (kidding) no that one time when my mum had given us ladies of the family, tiara’s for Christmas, and we were all introducing each other with our regal names ‘Duchess of Silveridge’ etc. and working on our royal entrances up and down my staircase, hand wave and all, I think we also took formal portraits, sans Corgies. We had consumed copious amounts of wine ok? No judgement.

Five words. No matter where I placed the emphasis in the sentence,  I couldn’t get it to resonate. The concept was live, it was happening. But it was taking all my might to grasp it.

And dare you ask why? Oh go on, be brazen. You know what I’m like, a word vomitter.

The answer?  Well it really came down to a situation I had let happen, a happenstance.

It in the most dramatic fashion was leaving one great love for the one. Breaking up with the great love, and in my case, well it was actually going to be quite amicable, the love being left, was almost in a sense ushering me out. The love knew it was time, our love affair was over, I needed to move on to bigger things, and the love in question? Well they would stay put, that was their fate, they were not moveable. Potentially, one day, in the future, I would come back to them, but it was too soon to say, as they motioned, you are going to take over the world, we will see you.

And the break up? Everyone always wants to know when and where. Well for us, this great love and I, when we broke up, we were in the throws of our standard ‘nooner’. It was sunny, a gorgeous day, and then we were interrupted by a phone call.  Beau.  His and I’s plans for our west coast cocoon had been unexpectedly kiboshed, so in a moment of an epiphany, on my noon hour date with Stanley, (of the Park variety) running in the sun around the whatever its called gun, I stared up at the Coastals, gazed in awe at the Lions, and in one moment uttered 5 words to Beau over the phone.

Up until this point, these 5 words,   Vancouver was to me, my love affair, the great love I needed to move out of and on from a personal relationship that just couldn’t sustain. And after the fact, and into present here I was with an opportunity of a lifetime, thus far of course, let us never count on something being the be all end all, right? So if Beau is the one, what was Vancouver? If every relationship  has a purpose, what was Vancouver to me?

Well, Vancouver, my great love, proved to be my core shaker, shoulder to cry on, home base,  foundation, trust, entertainment, love,and in the end everything you should come to expect in a partner.

In my moment of reflection, after I had uttered my 5 words, a core shaking statement of my own, all were silent, and then agreement, yes, this was it.

And finally after all that, the 5 words stood strong, they resonated, they gave me goosebumps, the fire was lit.

I was moving to Toronto.