Reverb11: Day 4
Addition through subtraction - What have you let go of this year and how has it affected you? In many ways I suppose I feel like I let Edinburgh go this year. I let go of it in the sense that I stopped, somewhere, at some point, believing that I'd be living back in the city by the end of the year, or even within the next two years. I came back at the end of 2010 thinking that I would apply for an artist visa and be back in the country, back in that most beloved of beloved cities, by the end of 2013. And who knows--maybe that's still a possibility. In some universe. I still think I'm going to get back there, eventually. Be it five years from now, or ten--at some point I'll have my little Scottish life back. Even if it's only a wee beachside flat that I visit four months out of the year. Someday, it will be mine. But at some point in 2011 I stopped thinking that I wanted to build my career from a Scottish outpost. There are too many connections here in Canada--too many readers, too many literary tweeps, too many coincidences. Maybe that's just a reflection of how small the Canadian publishing scene is; nonetheless, there's something about home that's meant for me, I think. At least right now. I'm still not at peace with it. Every now and again I'll get struck by a profound sense of homesickness. I'm homesick for my little Scottish house, for my favourite pub, for those friends I dearly miss. I'm homesick for the little grey isle, as cold and unwelcoming and hard as it was. There was no in-between in Scotland--I was either very happy or very depressed, and as odd as this might sound I miss that too. But! One must move forward. At some point, somehow. Maybe this next year will see me build a little life in Hamilton, one that isn't characterized by the temporariness of subletting a friend's apartment. Maybe there will be a space for me here, one where I can put my books on the walls and have my own furniture out in the open at last. My things have been very patient during the ten years that they've been stuck in the basement. And there have been so many unexpected friends here, so many unexpected little joys. I still miss the city, though. Even now, thinking about it, there's this soft little pocket of sorrow sitting right there in the middle of my collarbone. I'm already thinking about next year's trip. About a sabbatical on Iona. If only, if only ...











