There is a Season

I’m waiting for my new passport. I’m sad to give up my last one, but there was less than 6 months left on it.

The new passport is blank. No visas to China, Japan, India, Egypt. No stamps, and not sure if there will be any. Many countries do it all electronically, post-Covid, and I’m not travelling much now.

Last month, when I went to Calgary for a medical appointment, I flew with just my driver’s license for ID. I hadn’t known you could still do that. I don’t think I’ve had a flight that was only domestic for 5 years or more, and this was my first plane ride in 6 months.

* * *

I put the paracetamol bottle in the recycling. I remember my concern when first given some, before I realized that is just what the rest of the world calls acetaminophen. My toiletries now have only English and French on them, no more German, Greek, Spanish, Italian. I keep the containers long after they are empty, feeling the symbolism of throwing them away.

I am struck by a huge wave of déjà vu. I am living in the Cowichan Valley again after my time away, and it’s a 15 minute drive to the house where I spent 18 years. I look at my planned trips and they are just what they used to be every year: one warm, one skiing, one to visit friends. There are no big adventures planned.

I am reunited with all my belongings, many of which I haven’t seen for 5 years. Pam walked in to my new place for the first time and said, “Wow! This is definitely a Kathryn kitchen!”

But yet, despite surface appearances, it’s not the same. My cashmere sweaters are back in my wardrobe, but I wear them as a warmth layer with my hiking pants and sandals, not with the dress pants and shoes I used to pair them with. I don’t even know where my pearls are— probably still in the safety deposit box.

With no big trip in the works I used to be restless, but now I am, well, content. Scott and I drink our morning coffee together in bed, our ritual no matter where we are. I have more routine now than when it was forced on me by work and family obligations, and yet it doesn’t rankle. I don’t feel an obligation to always be busy, productive, contributing.

To everything there is a season. Perhaps my 5 years of change and self-discovery, of travelling and living overseas, was enough.

Or perhaps I simply need to rest. 2024 has been full of pain, both in my body and my heart. I have had a time to mourn, a time to break down, and a time to weep.

Now, it is time to keep close what is dear to me: my remaining family, my wonderful partner, my dear friends, the beauty of light on water and mountains. It is a time to love, to laugh, to heal.

Whether I am moving or not I am still on my brave travels.