I moved, I thought, 19 times in my life. Started in Montreal, then Istanbul, Turkey, then London, ON, then back to Montreal area, then Edmonton 1, 2, 3, 4 (Karen) then Mississauga, Toronto 1,2, 3 times, then Reno, NV, then Mississauga, then Oakville 1,2,3 times, then Stirling, then Tweed, then Mississauga, then full circle almost in my latter years speaking, Oakville. If I add this up properly, that is actually 20. No wonder i don’t want to move again. And maybe why I can’t find stability anymore. And maybe why I want to move again?
Not only moves, but lots of travelling. When Daddy took us overseas we travelled all over Europe, Italy, Greece, Bulgaria, Yugoslavia, Spain, Italy, Switzerland, Austria, Morocco, all across centre such of Canada and the US with Mom and Dad and ex-husband, Venezuela (this was my honeymoon supposedly, that’s for another story). One last overseas coming up. Other then maybe a resort with a beach on my bucket list. 🙂 Going to this last one where I lost a part of me and hoping to find her. She’s my avatar on this site. She is someone I cry for, but realized I cry for even my young 20 something year old, 30 something year old. I let them down. Now it’s time to prove to them I can be who I was supposed to be. Maybe if it’s only to go back to tell the one I remember as happy, to say, “sweetie, we’ll be okay”.