The farewell tour is over. At least the Ontario version. The last 10 days were a blur of appointments and socializing. Glasses were clinked. Stories were shared. Tears were shed. Hugs were lasting and passionate. No perfunctory pecks or weak embraces. No - these were the kind of hugs you never wanted to end. The type you give when you are not sure when the next one will occur. Hugs between family and friends that mean something.
I even walked by my old house for one last look. When I left for BC in June, the new owners had started to renovate. They are making slow progress. It is difficult to tell what the actual design plan is at this stage. Not sure where they are going with it. As I stood across the street observing the various changes, it occurred to me that the house was a metaphor for my own life.
Under construction. Final outcome - a mystery.
My dear friend Margot was with me surveying the half-renovated structure. I asked her to let me know when it is completed. The landscaping will surely follow the changes to the house. My once well-tended, much loved garden is pretty much a disaster. I figure it will be at least spring before the place is finished. It was a relief to know I still have some more time to finish my own life transformation. Perhaps by springtime, my new life will be more settled. Fresh starts all around.
Already, there is not really much that resembles the old house. All that really remains is the foundation and the memories that linger silent within its walls.
Not unlike me.
There is a handy book for writers called I Never Metaphor I didn't Like. Here's hoping I can live up to that title.