This has no direction. Rambling.
One of those days. It’s winter – I think – that brings this on. Walking the dogs in the early evening by the frozen quarry, the snow old and windswept and showing that forever landscape of miniature dune and dessert, walking into the wind coming through Whiteman’s Pass and the spindrift filtering down the face of the East End of Rundle. The moon is old, a sliver of it bright against a ghost of the whole. In the dusk it shines bright in the pass, nestled against the shoulder of Ha Ling before dropping farther west toward the sun, chasing itself from the dark of night. I need winter as much as water, so much of me depends on it.
I learned today that dear friends are leaving Canmore and returning to their home country. We don’t spend much time with them any more, we don’t spend much time with anyone other than each other. This isn’t a lament more than it’s just a fact, but this news hit me like a brick and I spent the morning fighting tears right up until I realized I was still in Canmore when I was supposed to be in Banff for a meeting. It’s now 10:30 at night and I’m still suffering this. I’m not sure any longer how many friends we have said goodbye to since we’ve lived here but it never gets easier. This is as bad as the first. I wished in the beginning I would grow cold to the experience, but if anything I’m more vulnerable. But unlike in the past when I wished myself away, I now wish myself fully here and aware. This is the wrong sentiment, but I want to punch this pain right in the throat, and to do so I need to feel it completely, to take it on.
I see this: We have a piece of land and the fallow hills of it roll and fold into each other. There is forest here too and with mountains that undulate into the distance and the dogs sleeping at our feet. We have a space on a hilltop with an unbroken view to the western horizon. We watch the sun falling each day seeing the fields catch orange and bending in the wind. There is no want. There is no need. Just that piece of watching the sun setting on the day. There isn’t even morning here, only the end of the day.
I want to suffer through this horrible blessing of presence. I want to be here forever and experience it all and fully. I want to stand on a beach on the dawn of armegeddon and smile at the sadness of loss and know that I have equal parts of the good and the bad. I want to know that this sickness I feel in my stomach as others leave my life is actually the unfathomable love I feel for them as they go.
And after they have all left, I want to keep vigil in case they return.