volume one hundred and thirty-three

saying goodbye

📍Written on the overcast morning of my birthday from Darkinyung country, Umina Beach.

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I didn’t mean to meet you. It was a happy accident. For a brief period, that summer, we were a little calmer, a little more confident to leave our homes, and we had a little more permission to do so. I had a week off work planned — a staycation I called it — trying to make the most of the situation which was that a staycation was my only choice. The sun would be out all week, and I planned to play tourist in the place I had lived for well over a year but hadn’t seen beyond the grocery shops.

I stepped out that first day and made my way towards the water. The plan was, for the most part, to walk in that direction. I wanted to get some poutine in Old Montreal, figuring I would finally be trying the real stuff. I also thought about heading to Chinatown and exploring. Something about my family’s almost forgotten roots calling me there, maybe. Maybe trying to connect with them when I couldn’t be with them.

Before I made it to all of that I walked past a shop and felt compelled to step in. The music that was playing, the young pierced and tattooed employee rearranging the shelves and the kinds of people that were browsing all said “You want to be here, too, Lauren”.

I met you there.

We hit it off right away, and you left the shop with me, joining me for all of the plans I didn’t have that day. We sat and ate poutine in a courtyard with terrible music blaring while tourists slurped frozen cocktails for lunch and let their children scream as loud as they wanted. We left there as quickly as possible and I was thankful for the poutine close to home that I would stick with from then on. Would you want to come with me there one day?

We explored famous gardens together and slowly walked cobblestone streets. We looked up as we stepped, spying proof of how long everything had been around. We took in art displayed above gravel paths while distant disco could be heard and before we knew it, it was starting to get dark. We headed home together.

We decided to make a whole day of Chinatown another day — together — and we did. We celebrated a sober pride for the first time for me, which was hard and yet, the best I had had so far. That summer went on and we slowed down at patios many times where people laughed over jugs of pink, icey, minty delights. But we didn’t stop. We always kept walking.

When the weather turned, and with it so did the statistics and the only thing we could do was walk the streets in my neighbourhood, we did that together, too. Weeks of it. Months of it. Until I snapped and moved again, and you helped me carry everything from one place to another. Another fresh start.

So much remained behind with that fresh start. The next one, too. Another act of leaving people and places and things behind for a life of less. You stuck by me. You helped me carry luggage onto trolleys and you held me as I held my breath at the weighing station, hoping I wasn’t over and wouldn’t have to repack my four suitcases that were all I owned and that were taking me to another city.

You didn’t like the weather in that new city as much. Despite that, you still hung out with me any moment you could, when the rain was light or for the brief months it switched off. You danced with me when no one else would and didn’t care if the music was live or playing above us in the cafe we were writing in and all we did was tap along. You sat quietly off to the side while I cried in “It could’ve been me” tears and then smiled strongly with me when I followed it up with a sincere “I am so happy for you both!” the next day. You understood when I left you alone to go and wait tables to make ends meet, you knew I needed to be there and you happily waited for me at home. It was no place for us together — too much time together and my hips would ache. I needed to concentrate on my customers to get us the next fresh start.

We took another big leap together. More gone and you remained, there to see me into the next chapter. Every step I took into the nursing home to visit Gordy, you were there. Every walk to the bar to buy a lemonade while out with family before I could admit to myself this was not my idea of fun, you were there with me, watching others drink. Every step onto aeroplane stairs, every slide into an Uber, every run towards the open arms of a hug, every reminder to uncross my legs because it is bad for circulation, every dodging of the drips of a melted ice cream on a hot day or flake of a pastry before I realised gluten was the enemy, every beach walk where you happily waited at the top for me to return (you hated the sand more than you hated the rain), every time my feet pointed at what or who I wanted even when the rest of my body shied away, every time I wandered into a new library or cafe to create new words, every step outside of a home following yet another goodbye — you were there.

You were around much longer than I expected, and I selfishly kept you around longer than I should have. All signs said you had had enough, you were worn out, you could no longer hold me through the good and the bad and that it was someone else’s turn now. 

I knew it, and I took my time. But I said goodbye and entered my thirty-third year without you, grateful for the years we spent together.

Lovely reader, head into the comments and tell me what (or who or where) you have said goodbye to this week.

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hi, lauren deborah! will always be free and by clicking this cute link, you will get full access to your inbox each week as well as to the archives. If you would like to support my work, you can buy me an ice cream. 🧡🧡🧡 Comments and likes on this post or sharing it with someone, jumping into the chat, listening to my podcast or submitting a question are all other ways you can support me, too, and I love them all!

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here are three things i struggled with this week:

🐝Narrowing the path. Sticking to one task and following it through before moving on to the next.

🫶Accepting that people want to do nice things for me. My hands feel strange. I should be helping.

😋Having kind friends stop me before I bite into something out of a lifelong habit of enjoyment and momentary lapse in memory and then constantly referring to the list on my phone of the foods I am no longer allowed to eat. 

here are three blessings from this week:

🪑A really good chair in my latest working space in the latest home I am staying in.

📖When I didn’t get time to finish the excellent book I borrowed off the shelf of the last house, but this new house has it so I can finish it and likely will have finished reading it by the time you are reading these words.

💟Voicing what I need in spaces I used to stay silent… and getting what I asked for.

here are three goals for the coming week:

💭Try and figure out if I am seeking distractions from things I claim to love, and if so, why.

🧦Making the most of the beach and the weather by going barefoot where possible and getting rid of my sock tan.

🫙Enjoying downtime and not trying to fill it with anything.

pics or it didn’t happen:

stevie’s face says “please, no more selfies!” 😂

I love you. Now I am off to get nature’s pedicure by putting my toes in the sand but not before I remember to put my sunscreen on! I will not learn the hard way ever again, please.

🧡, LD (lauren deborah | she/they)