volume thirty

until then, be here

Hello to you all, and a special warm welcome to all my newest subscribers. I feel very cool and popular this week so thank you for allowing me the pleasure to hop into your inbox!

Volume thirty. Wow. It seems fitting that I would hit this milestone this week, while I wrap up my journey back home and make my way back to Canada — ready to start a brand new chapter — and while I wrap up my thirtieth year in (this) life. There is a change in the air around the Lauren D world. My heart is calling for it, my head is saying all systems go, and they are both aligning to take me there over the course of the next few months, ready to see out 2022.

I feel like this week being volume thirty, is marking the shift in all the things towards who I want to be and where I am destined to end up. Thank you so much for reading along. I hope you enjoy this final home-to-Australia journal before I return to my regularly scheduled programming next week probably chirping on about a crush, or sobriety, or my sexuality, or something that pissed me off.

For now, let’s stay here, in the spare room of Nan and Pop’s house, with a dining chair pulled up to the bed as my desk as I begin to write my final letter to you in this stage, and end it from the dining room in my Montreal studio apartment.

banana toast deliveries from poppy

DAY FORTY-THREE

I began the day with another phone call with another friend today, that set the wheels in motion for what my 2022 is going to be — which is Lauren as fuck and that’s how I will describe it (aka chaos, adventure, magic).

Nanny took me up to the golf club for her weekly presentation and I get to sit with her and her three closest gal pals. They are like The Golden Girls of golf — the four coolest, kindest, sassiest, wittiest gossips — what a fun time! I am so glad I get to bond with them and hear them brag about how good Nan is at golf, something she doesn’t give herself the credit for. For example, at one point when discussing how ‘poorly’ they did as a team that day, they all go on and on about “couldn’t you have gotten your ball closer, Maria? I mean, never mind the fact none of us got it on the green, just get yours closer next time…” and they all laugh. Nan laughs a lot, it is awesome seeing her with her friends.

Before we make our quick break back to the house in between downpours, Nan asks to see the photos from my time in Sydney with Deb and Dad, which leads me to not only showing her those but all of the photos and videos I have taken so far on this trip which mostly have been taken without anyone’s knowledge. She has to wipe tears of joy from her face over and over as we cry laugh at all the cute and silly things I have documented. I get a few arm slaps too, accompanied with a “you bugger!” As we get up to leave, she thanks me and says she cannot remember the last time she laughed like that.

Rainy afternoons call for pyjamas and naps all ‘round!

Poppy’s lorikeets return after months away. Which is delightful and a worry. The reason they got their pet bird was because he fed these lorikeets every day they ended up with tens of them all over the yard and balcony constantly. Let’s see how this goes.

I am noticing for the first time since I have stayed here for the most part of the last six weeks, that it is so quiet right now that I can hear the ocean from my room.

DAY FORTY-FOUR

Poppy’s latest thing is catching flies, which in the Australian summer there is an abundance of. We sit outside often and they are relentless. Today he caught and killed two at once (for the record this grosses me out and makes me sad but I am not going to tell him that because, well, it isn’t that easy, believe me, I tried at first). Poppy leaves the two dead on the table as a warning to the others.

Poppy’s lorikeets return again and I say “be careful leaving that door open or they’ll come inside!” then go off to have my shower. When I get out, Poppy rushes to me right away as I emerge from the bathroom to fill me in on what I missed. I learn that while I was gone for a mere ten minutes, one did indeed come inside the house and flew straight into the Quiet Room, straight over Nan’s head who was sitting on the couch and landed on the curtain rung. This led to a lot of commotion, neighbours peering in the window laughing and Nan being a genius and throwing a towel over it and picking it up and throwing it outside, so it flew off. That is some quick thinking. I was seriously none-the-wiser and Nan said she was *this* close to coming to get me, which I of course said she should have, but was also secretly grateful she was such a badass. 

DAY FORTY-FIVE

I enjoyed a long walk to the shops with Poppy today, where he giggled each time I said “okay just one more place I have to go into!”

Sunshine, dark clouds, rain, sunshine, dark clouds, rain, sunshine, dark clouds, rain, sunshine!

I ended my evening with my first Gold Writers’ Check-In with LWS, with a group of truly incredible humans. I am ready to burn the patriarchy, hustle culture, toxic positivity, catholic shame, big company culture and anything else in the direct way of my pure and total joy of creating in any way from a daydream to a huge project — TO THE FREAKING GROUND!

DAY FORTY-SIX

I am awake for 5:30 am today to go and get my PCR test to get on the plane in a few days. Which is of course the beginning of the end and that starts to sink in. Despite another cloudy looking day, the pinks of the sunrise comes through the trees from the direction of the beach and overhead on my walk I am greeted by the morning birds — lorikeets and kookaburras — wishing me well.

I am early (of course) to the appointment so I walk around another suburb new to me and find myself the only place I seem to be able to get coffee. My toes get wet on the walk from the morning dew still coated on the grass, which is such a nostalgic and refreshing feeling of early summer mornings being up and about as a child.

On arrival back at the appointment, a few of us have already gathered out front awaiting them to open. The staff member emerges from her car and greets us with lovely joy and a huge warm smile, which pains me, even more, when she immediately trips and falls with a huge thud on the hard pavement. I would not wish that on anyone, but it truly was extra unfair that this happened while she was spreading her golden optimism with a group of people who would all of course rather be anywhere else. She couldn’t get up even with our assistance and so on her instruction I go and get her husband who has not yet driven off. Another staff member emerges from the centre and after phone calls, an arm sling and help to get up (while we all look on feeling so very useless), she leaves to go get it looked at. This leaves me hoping she is okay, but honestly, hoping I didn’t take a forty-five minute bus ride at the crack of dawn only to have to go somewhere else now as there isn’t the staff.

There is no pang of worry though, in my gut, just curiosity, which I clock and am grateful for the calm I have in almost everything on this trip that would ordinarily feel like a setback worth ruining the rest of my day. It turns out just fine with the help of the most lovely (now solo) staff member.

When we go to the golf club for our weekly Saturday lunch, and Pop and Nan ask (everyone they know) how they played that day, I actually understand what they’re talking about when they answer. Do I know golf now? Am I cool by association by being with two legends of the club? Seems that way.

Nanny and I skip the western movie Pop is watching, to watch Maid in Manhattan in the other room. The story of a hard-working woman finding love (I will leave my negative opinions of the film and its flaws out of this to remain on my point) spark Nan telling me the stories of the factories she worked in years ago. She too was the manager of her group and they called themselves the ‘Magnificent Seven’. They rotated on the assembly line making telephone cables (!!!) and later she worked for many more years making suitcases. I am ashamed to admit, I actually had no idea Nan ever worked. I thought because she married so young, at seventeen, that she was solely a housewife and mother from the get-go. I am sad but grateful to learn, that I was very, very wrong. Nan rarely speaks about the past or her younger years — or herself at all really — and she has opened up on a few occasions on this trip so I can know her better.

I suppose in reflecting on her comments last week, Nan again quizzes me on my “career” and “if I have brains why not…” and I am about to rebuttal again when she gets in first and says “I guess money isn’t everything, you have to be happy, Lauren.” 

DAY FORTY-SEVEN

I get to enjoy a cold and windy sunrise at the beach this morning. If this could be my idea of cold, that would be heaven. I am dreading getting back to freezing temperatures and closed windows and doors of Montreal winter. No matter what the weather, I was coming down here for my ocean fix this morning, even if it just meant sitting on the sand with the head of my jumper wrapped tightly around my head and the drawstrings of the hood pulled snuggly on my chin — which it did, in fact, mean. Aside from the three very brave swimmers, I am totally alone here. The ocean today is rough and beautiful. The sun peeking out to my left and the ominous clouds to my right tells two different stories, and with the change of the wind, lead to two very different days. In my imaginative daydreamy mind, I see myself sitting in the middle, up in the sky, with two choices: risk it and see the sun come out, or worst case I get caught in the rain. My other option is to leave to dodge potential weather, but risk missing continued sunrise perfection.

I apply this to my life right now, and how I am feeling. If you have been reading my journey back home this far, my reflections likely come as no surprise.

Should I risk it all for the pure joy that is endless summers, ocean sunshine and following my happiness?

I make my way to the ocean, dipping my legs into what I am surprised to feel is as warm as a bath — then I get caught in the rain, and it pours, but I don’t move. It soon passes, and by waiting, I get to experience the sun returning and literal silver linings around the clouds that remain and the sand turning to the brightest gold as the sun beams down.

It pays off.

I going to risk it. 2022 will see me chase the sun, find that balance I constantly crave and spread myself between all the people, places and things I love. See you again soon, Australia.

Daddio called to say thank you for all the time we spent this trip, to say “I love you” and to wish me safe travels. When I tell you that this felt so far from possible a year ago? I am so happy for us.

Poppy joined me for some shopping this afternoon to get some ingredients to make Nan an early birthday dinner. I come out of the shop and he’s gotten her a gift that can only be described as perfect — the perfect replica of her beloved pet, Gordy. After all these years and despite his dementia, he can still surprise her with something that I know will make her happier than anything.

I knock on Poppy’s door to see if he needs help to wrap the present and he jumps and hides the gift in the drawer and acts very secretive until he realises it is me. This is the most adorable thing I have ever witnessed.

We enjoy a perfect night of early 80th birthday celebrations — dinner, birthday cake, singing and gifts. As expected, Poppy’s gift is perfect and makes Nan so very happy.

I love my Nan and Pop so fucking much. I am putting my journal down for the night to spend the rest of it in the Quiet Room with them.

DAY FORTY-EIGHT

My phone lights up over and over with people wishing me safe travels today, the kind of people I am so sad to be leaving, for now.

I grab a final beachside coffee with Poppy and he wants to pay “because then you will think you owe me one and you’ll come back.” Heart? Broken.

Here it is — the absolute sinking in the pit of my stomach, soul-crushing, agonising, on the verge of tears, dreaded feeling of leaving my grandparents.

Poppy makes several comments that he could fit into my suitcase as we watch some daytime TV and enjoy some sandwiches. For the record, yes he could absolutely fit if it was empty. This is killing me. He is going to be so lost, and so am I.

Nanny returns from golf and an early birthday lunch with the girls, with the best news — this coming month will be her last round of chemo. I cannot stop crying. Thank you universe, thank you higher power, thank you science, thank you.

Nanny asks if I am allowed to go on the plane dressed as I am (I am in a t-shirt and sweat pants). I assure her there is no dress code, but quietly appreciate she managed to get one more unfiltered dig in before I left.

We all sit in the front yard, enjoying my last slice of heavenly summer sun, and butterflies appear, floating around in the sky over me. I have said it before, but I consider butterflies the sign of my higher power, and I silently cry behind my sunglasses.

There are no words for how sad saying goodbye to them was. There just isn’t enough time, ever, for hugs and tears and I love yous.

DAY FORTY-NINE

I am here, in Vancouver as a layover. I call Nan and Pop to let them know I am safe and they miss me so much it pulls my heart into my throat.

I have the perfect night ahead of me, alone together in the magical, long-awaited company of someone so special to me. Be here, for now. Be here, until then. Be here.

credit @gisellebuchannan

I love you,

Lauren xoxo

No blessings, struggles or gratitudes lists this week as I think they’re pretty well covered above.

If you feel inclined to say thanks for this post, please like or comment (it’s free and means so much!), forward it to a friend or you can buy me a slice 🍕