Harvest moon

As autumn falls, I find myself rolled up in a blanket, turning life around. Away from the usual, the comfortable, free spirited soaking up the sun taking it all day by day, kissing faces, meeting places and never looking back. Moving on endlessly and inexhaustably. Until that day heatwaves settled for a cloud of rain and it poured and poured down the drain. Harvest moon lit up the night and all of a sudden it was all so bright: get out of your nest of comfort, of living life on the road. Change like the colours of the leaves and settle down on the ground until the wind sweeps you off your feet. Then the time is right to move on and leave it all behind. But for now, this is where I stay. Where I rest that travelled head of mine.

It can be hard to keep moving all the time. To gain balance it's good to stand still for a while. To look around and let life seep in slowly. Through eyes and smiles, conversations with strangers. New cities are a maze of yelling people. To find your place in the labyrinth, you've got to use your voice. Climb the backyard ladder onto the roof and scream at the top of your lungs: Toronto, I love your quirkiness,

the way you set the sky on fire every night, 

the realness of all the fake, 

the ridiculousness of the diamonds and pearls part of town, 

the ease of getting lost,

the magic that happens right before sunrise.

I tell everyone I'm not a city woman anymore, because it's hard to connect to what's real when all your eyes touch is buildings and paved roads. Life feels out of context when you've got to wait in traffic every day on your way to work, and on your way back. But there is something that attracts me to this big busy city. The smiles people offer me while walking around the neighbourhood. Random expressions of art and poetry in alleyways. Music blasting wine sipping enjoying the last of the sunrays. Strangers with strange propositions. Catch ups with long lost friends. Having a key burning in my pocket. The feeling of coming home.