Rose gold memory
Last March I moved in with my dad for an indeterminate amount of time. It had been planned since January, but the timing aligned that the week we went into our first lockdown was the week I, like many others, packed up my city life and moved to the 'burbs.
I loved my little condo on West Queen West, but when I got to the suburbs I felt like I was letting out a breath I didn't even know I had been holding. The trees and expansive green space, the time to take a step back and move at a slower pace, to turn inward. The privilege of being able to feel the weight of pandemic anxiety in a place I felt safe and cared for - it was exactly what I needed. And for a while, that need felt so permanent. Finite. I couldn't imagine ever not needing this.
During these months, my perspective on the city was as pictured here, a rose gold memory fading into the distance. I felt so sure that I was done with city living. Now that I'd been in the suburbs breathing deeply, how could I ever go back to city life, to tiny sips of air?
This month, my boyfriend and I are (slowly) moving into our first place together and to my surprise, we're settling in the city. March 2020 me would never have guessed I'd be willingly returning, but the suburbs have given me what I needed. So much growth has happened here. I've caught my breath.
This has taught me that so often, we are exactly where we're meant to be, even if we can't quite see it. This experience has been a beautiful lesson in noticing how my needs have evolved and shifted alongside me. We are all full of surprises, and navigating our own needs with gentle compassion allows us to extend this same treatment to others.
An affirmation for me and you: I am holding myself with compassion as my needs shift and evolve.
Toronto, a rose gold memory