A Sunday Afternoon Moment

I rode the skytrain to Burnaby to have lunch with my brother and his girlfriend yesterday afternoon. It was a clear Sunday, and from the train you could see the mountains in the distance.

I had woken up from a good night’s sleep. I dreamt about my cousin and her one-year-old daughter in New York, and how other relatives whom I haven’t seen in years surprise-visited the same time we did! It was heart-warming and …nice.

I thought about my lunch engagement. I looked forward to the delicious foods I was going to consume, as well as the wonderful company I had with the meal. Then I thought about the success of a friend’s surprise birthday party Saturday night and the people I’m happy to call friends in my life. I thought that I am really lucky to have been working at SFU for six years now doing a job that I love. And that was illuminated by the fact that I was working backstage for a Robert LePage show! I felt grateful for the opportunities I’ve had and all the 2nd chances that were given to me when I didn’t deserve them.

My thoughts drifted over to the charming woman I’ve been seeing for the past month. Her zest for life, adorable smile, and an indescribable amount of “nerdiness” captivated me and filled my head.

Looking into the distance at the snow-capped mountains as the train pulled away, I was in awe of mother nature and count myself lucky that I got to reside in this beautiful city on the West Coast. For a lingering moment during that train ride Sunday afternoon, I was satisfied with my life. Happiness overwhelmed my soul and I was completely content.

Ghost

“I feel like a ghost.” When people ask me how I’m doing, that’s the answer I give them. I’ve been back on Canadian soil for two weeks now, but I don’t seem to have my head in Vancouver. I feel like a wandering, soul-less shell; traveling to and fro without purpose and aim. I carry blank stares because half of me is missing.

Eating makes me feel better. But even in something I enjoy doing so much, I cannot find the satisfaction I get from food. I don’t know; it seems like I’ve lost joy in what used to make me happy. It doesn’t matter what I try or do, I carry with me a presence of absence (if that makes sense?) It sounds depressing, I know, and I’m at a loss at what to do. I don’t know who to talk to, and I don’t know how to begin to get rid of my long face that I’ve put on since I’ve been back.