It's not the end of my Intermission, but it feels like the end of a final chapter of it, having now concluded the trip to see some friends and hang out with my family in (the Greater Area of) Toronto. In fairness, I've not yet concluded the return trip, sitting somewhere between Kingston and Belleville (this sounds familiar) struck with the drive to provide some kind of update. I think it's partly to do with the previous week serving as a book-end of sorts for my intermission as a whole (again, knowing it's not), and partly due to time spent with my family -- something I don't do as much as I'd like at this stage of our lives.
Among a regretfully short number of hours in conversations, I often leave them and find myself in this hazy space of “you're having some pretty deep sounding thoughts right now, friend, let's share those”, and feeling too intimidated to do so. I'd like to take some of the conversations I had over the last couple of days (my mom and I have some really good ones) and do something with them. Not lose them. Not miss the reflections and revelations realized while engrossed in them. Not have had them for nothing.
Yet here I am. Deliberately working to sound overly poetic, and taking way too long to put a sentence down on paper. (My ongoing immersion in Monsters, and the author's genuine skill in weaving ideas, thoughts, and analogies into dense explosions of exquisite prose -- regardless of the often gloomy subject matter, has ensnared me in my current endeavour of verbal embroidery -- see what I mean?) Despite feeling impactful in nature, and having mutual moments of vulnerability while expressing to each other some things we've learned from each other, things of significance in how we see the world around us, I'm not really sure how to move them away from my head and into yours. I'll move on for now. Shelved, but not likely lost within the book-ends.
I'm genuinely excited to be heading home. While I love my parents and sister, and assuredly enjoy our time together, I've missed my own family. The part of me that relishes in solitude always grows weary of it. It wants to find its way back to the connection we selfishly left behind. I don't begrudge that part of me, in fact I'm grateful it exists and that I can express its needs as required, but I do think it's worth the personal acknowledgement that I don't prefer it in the long run.
We'll call it here, friends. Thank you for reading.
<3 flurp