Moved

A man on the 105 commented on my Fender, one of the three large bags I was heaving around the city, “Here for some gigs?”

“Nope, I’ve just moved.”

“Where from?”

Hmmm. Where have I moved from? I’m not really that sure. I know where I’ve been, but I’m not too sure where it is that I’ve been living. One of the various provinces/states/countries I’ve been the last three months? Maine? Alberta? British Columbia?

What I did know is that I was navigating the Montreal public transit system like a champ, having this low-grade sense of familiarity with it from February’s trip.

I’ve arrived. And it wasn’t without bumps. I learned, however, that I am much more equipped to handle the inevitable bumps that life and travelling dole out than I was last time I attempted the exchange between Calgary and Montreal.

Today I walked right past the spot I stood in the airport where, two months ago, my seemingly hyperbolic, “This is the most stressed out I’ve ever been in my life,” was actually honest. Okay, maybe I needed to add “while travelling” to that sentence uttered on the phone, but I was in no space emotionally to have any resiliency to mistakes I made. The sentence stands, and my ability to deal with today’s setbacks are a far cry from those tears springing out of me with such force their gravity-defying prowess landed them on the inside of my glasses lenses.

Today I brainstormed in my mind as I rushed to the airport later than planned: “Just what would happen if I don’t make it in time?” and the solutions springing before me gave me a place for my mind to rest when it dealt with that very problem.

Being late for a plane is something that can easily be recovered from. And, as I learned two months ago, so is being a whole day early (that’s what happens when you book tickets when Mercury is in retrograde.) Life’s going to throw all sorts of things at me, and it’s my choice how I deal with them.

I’m happy to have my strength back, even if, like the rest of me, I’m not really sure where its most recent origin is.

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