Locomotion

I've just passed the half-way point in my pregnancy. It's surprised me a bit since I thought that nine months (or 40 weeks for those that understand the calculation thing) would feel quite long. The first 12 weeks went slowly, the last five weeks went fast, and the ones in between were a blur.

Of course, this whole process has given me substantial cause for reflection. A question that has provided an insightful answer is "How did I/we get here?". Meaning, how did I finally end up making this decision? My close friends and family would likely echo this question, begging for answers of any kind from me.

I've ended up with one concrete answer which carries a lot of history. The answer is that I am settled - for the first time. Historically, I'm a restless person. If not restless, then a girl with a severe case of itchy feet. The only cure for itchy feet is to travel or very simply, to explore. Prior to owning a car, I had a list of places I wanted to go and where I wanted to live.

Before A and I got married, we traded in our cars for the Pumpkin, which was a 1983 VW getaway van. In the course of a year and a half (inclusive of our honeymoon), we drove south and then north and then east and then west. When we weren't stopping over for extended periods of time at family's places we were in the van or living somewhere other than where either of us grew up.

I could go on, but the first year of our lives together crystallizes the way that I felt all of the time - restless to experience places and cultures. I don't know if I ever hungered to find a particular place and settle there although I was certainly open to find the right 'fit' for me in each place we parked ourselves. Seven apartments, four retail jobs, 15 Starbucks stores, 1 year of university and a related career job later, I end up here. Oh, that's not including a cumulative of nearly one year of total travel time in 10 countries peppered throughout those 14 years of marriage... and that's not including roadtrips. At any rate, we moved around a fair deal and each time we moved it was by being compelled to do so.

So, I end up here, in East Vancouver. It makes sense, really. The more I learn about this spot, the more I understand why I live here and more importantly, why I love it. Now, if you followed my blabla above you'll notice that I've parked myself now. Therefore, the answer to my initial question is that I found my home. Itchy feet and all, I'm content to be at home. I swear I never knew the meaning of home until now. What I marvel at is how the sense of belonging and correlating settling-in of home equals a new level of decisions being made. Once I sorted out the fact that I didn't have to think about where to travel to or where to move anymore, I got into a 'new head'. This mindspace included a whole bunch of decisions that were never very seriously considered before; one of which included whether or not I wanted to start a family.

So, how did I get here? Blame East Van.