citrus and nectar

“I walked along these streets that feel unfamiliar to me, taking in all the new sights and sounds. I knew it wouldn’t be long until these lanes I strolled along felt like home. It wouldn’t be long before these sounds would no longer be so loud, but instead, blend in with everything else inside my mind. I knew it wouldn’t be long before I knew exactly where to go to get what I needed but for now, I had to test it all out first. I needed to discover the shortcuts and ways of life, the ones that would only come with experience, with passing time. I knew one day I’d know it all like the back of my hand and I’d look back on these rookie choices I initially made and laugh at my lack of knowledge of the world around me but for now, these streets are new to me, there are no stories attached to them, they are not mine, not yet, but they will be.”

Whenever I was asked why I decided to leave London, I’d always tell people the same story. London was an orange, a beautiful, bright, delicious orange that I had spent years devouring, In each bite, understanding it, growing with it, becoming immersed in it but one day, the juice began to run out. I had squeezed all of the citrus it had to offer me. There was nothing new to discover, not that I could find anyway. But I loved that orange, I loved the experience of enjoying it and I still do wonder if my mouth will ever meet another piece of enticing citrus quite like it (please universe, give me one more turn of all the beautiful moments I forgot to be grateful for) but when the juice stops dripping, you go seeking another piece of fruit.

In late October, after spending a month scrolling through Facebook marketplace rental ads every single god damn hour, I finally found an apartment to live in. Sat with just enough money to cover my bond, first months rent and the cheapest mattress from IKEA. Sure, this was something and this was progress, but it wasn’t all falling together as quick as I’d hoped. I won’t be completely settled until I have a proper bed, like a proper grown up. As a teenager, I would have loved the idea of a mattress on the floor but unfortunately the opportunity for this experience had been presented to me at 28, where not only do I no longer desire the bedroom aesthetic of a teenage girl in her “I don’t care about anything” phase, having only enough money for a mattress with no bed base also felt a little like swallowing a big gulp of my pride. So for a little while, I’d crouch down onto my mattress in the evenings, climb up out of it in the mornings and accepted that things will progress with patience. In late December, when my tips from work were at a healthy amount and I’d conquered nearly 2 months of mattress on the floor life, I was in the position to treat myself to a bed frame. An Irish boy from a Facebook page came over to help me assemble the god damn flat pack (Ikea, I love you but I also kind of hate you) and there I was finally, laying in my room, on my bed, an insignificant moment that felt like some kind of achievement.

Sometime around 3pm on a rainy Tuesday afternoon in early January, I began to make my way down to Granville Street in hopes of finding a gift for someone at the book store. My hands were tucked away in my puffy coat pockets due to my lack of adequate gloves, my nose squished up from the cold and my eyes squinted to protect them from the tiny droplets of rain that had started to become magnetized towards my face. I was determined to go on foot, get that fresh air, but the rain had other plans, it was a bus kind of day. The bus made its way along West Broadway, watching the grey clouds and imagining how much nicer it would be if they would let the sun have her moment for once. My favourite playlist of the week blasting through my AirPods, songs I’ll listen to in years to come that will take me back to these moments I’m in. The bus drives past the streets of Kitsilano, streets I couldn’t tell you by name, but I could tell you the contents of them. This is where I go to get fresh sourdough, this is where I go to get a takeaway coffee if my bank balance allows it, I don’t have a favourite nail salon but I know I won’t go to that one again, this is where I walk to if I need to be outside and this is where I go to see something beautiful. I reflected on my current life, in the right now and give myself credit for the hurdles I’ve overcome to be here right now. I walked into the bookstore, greeted by a waft of warmth that immediately began to defrost the coldness that had numbed my fingers and seeped into my bones. I made my way up the elevator and spot a man who comes into my work, a man that I have bonded with over conversations on books and writing. “I didn’t know you worked here!” I approach him, with a lit up smile. “Oh, hello Holly, yes I’ve been here a while now”. We continue a small conversation before parting ways and I leave the bookstore with an increased sense of belonging to my new life. I have now reached the part of this chapter where I run into people I know by name, who know mine back, an insignificant moment that felt like some kind of achievement.

I have met numerous kinds of people while being here, in my work and social life. Some who instantly feel like home when you’re with them (thankyou for being you), some who don’t understand you, some who don’t want to understand you, some who make the same effort as you, some who are fleeting, some who are permanent. The journey of not only meeting these people, but understanding them, exploring what kind of dynamic this relationship will be, is always a learning experience because the more I learn about others, their behaviour and who they are, I continue to learn more about myself. Finding someone in a new world, someone who sees you in a crowd of everyone else trying to figure it out, in a new life, is worth it’s weight in gold because when you go out into the world on your own and are continually overcoming hurdles you intentionally put in front of you for the challenge of being outside of your comfort zone, it’s nice to have people next to you to cheer you on when you conquer them. No, it’s not just nice, its essential. When you find them, it’s just a simple hello to begin with, an insignificant moment that feels like some kind of achievement.

Lately, I have been assessing my relationship with time. So furiously eager for it to move so things can progress, so I can feel stable and safe, so I can have a bed frame for my mattress, yet equally so furiously scared of the time I have slipping through my fingers. One day, I’ll have finished the fruit that is Vancouver, this journey too, will be a memory in my mind where I’ll be begging for a turn to do it all again once more. Like a favourite book I wish I hadn’t read so I could read it again for the first time but for now, I’m enjoying the process, of learning this new life, of letting this nectar run down my hands as I figure it all out.

If you read my blogs and enjoy them, please do reach out and send your love, it is always appreciated. - Holly