For our anniversary this year, G surprised me with tickets to Jamaica...in February. A little far ahead, but still, it was exciting to think of going home after two years, and celebrating our anniversary on the beach!
Well, it was exciting once we were finally on our way, but leading up to it, I was trying very hard not to be overwhelmed with planning and executing so we would have a smooth trip. I like traveling by air, enjoy the experience for itself and not just that I get to a specific destination. G is, of course, entirely about "Why aren't we there already?".
In the week leading up to leaving, I organized ruthlessly, planning and revising as I went along, to ensure that we left on time for the drive to Toronto (requesting a morning shift where I usually work afternoons), that I only had the necessities in my bags to avoid charges for extra luggage (extensive lists of what I needed, revised often), purchasing currency to ensure we had Jamaican funds on hand rather than relying on credit cards, and on, and on.
Underlying all this planning, though, was an anxiety that ratcheted higher and higher the closer we got to leaving. I was trying to control it, by doing what I always do, trying to pin every detail down. My fears came to nought, and our trip went as well as can be expected.
I was so happy to see my brothers again. My younger brother collected us at the airport, and immediately drove us to Burger King on Gloucester Avenue, exactly where I wanted to go for lunch. I have had a burger from BK exactly once in the last two years. This one was everything I needed it to be. I was home.
We spent the two weeks at my Mom's house in Sheffield. This started off somewhat inauspiciously, as my Mom was in Florida visiting my older brother, and basically left her house looking as though she had left with no notice at all, and did not intend to return. I spent 3 days cleaning and organizing her house to suit myself, and thought long and hard about whether the woman who raised me to believe that "Cleanliness is next to godliness" taught me that because she believed it or because she felt it was something she had to teach me as a good parent (something she became before she was probably ready for it) and had simply dropped the philosophy now that she had no-one living at home with her.
The rest of the time we spent on the beach at Alfred's. Being known there means being able to get what you like to drink without needing to ask for it, and having some of the most incredible views up and down the beach a few steps away from the bar.
For our anniversary, we stayed overnight at Alfred's, and went to a restaurant a little further along the beach. The meal did not live up to expectations, but we made the best of it. I also got my hair cut short for our anniversary. Finally, after 5 long years, G and I compromised and I was able to go short. Not as short as I wanted, but at least I could get it cut, not just trimmed. I had grown weary of long hair, and frustrated with how much time and attention it required to care for it, as I usually do after a few years of keeping it long. Once again, I have hair I can wash without worrying about how long it takes to dry, and that needs no styling to get into bed so that I do not wake with a crick in my neck.
If the first week went by slowly in a daze of heat and sun and sand, the second week sped up and went by like any normal week. Before I was quite ready for it, we were organizing and packing our things to return to Canada. By focusing yet again on the small details involved (did I want to bring this large Jane Austen compendium back with me, what would it do to the weight of my suitcase, what about my other book collections, like my Tolkien paperbacks?), I was able to ignore the thoughts about homesickness and how I would feel once I was back on the plane and headed for Canada.
Honestly? It felt like coming home to be back. Even Toronto and southern Ontario, which I see so seldom, felt familiar and welcoming. Jamaica had been the same as I left it (roads slightly worse than ever, prices higher than ever), and Canada had become familiar enough in two years to feel as though I was also coming home. Last January, returning from my uncle's funeral in New York, I had simply been coming back to G, this was where I lived now, and that was that. This July, I was coming home, from being home. It's an awesome and profound feeling, I imagine, to realise that you are at home in more than just the country you were born in.
In the week since we've been back, I have been focusing on my priorities for the rest of the year. I need to schedule some time to look at what has been accomplished in the first 6 months of the year, and where I want to be at the end of the next 6 months, the first half of my 39th year of life. I'll probably get that done on my birthday, a few days from now. I usually like to reflect as I mark each year, and aim to make time for that once again.
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