Ode to Friendship

My good friend and I rode on our bicycles along the seawall after a seeing a musician friend play a live show at one of the clubs in town. We reminisced everything from our friendship to all the silly individual adventures we got up to in various parts of the city. We stopped, played and sang some tunes on the public pianos scattered en route to a semi-private beach that I’ve designated as my favourite spot in town. It is a place where I go to escape the city and reflect.

My friend is moving away to a different country in a week, and even though his heart remains on the West Coast, everything we do together might be the last time we ever do any of the things together. Even though I am sure our friendship will transcend time and distance, I am sad that he will not be able to accompany me to any dance parties or indulge me in a game of “chatting up strangers”. Part of me feels like he’s not really leaving. We’ve talked and bonded so much over our work, our personalities, and our love lives in the past couple of years that we’ve managed to cement a part of us in each other (does that make sense?).

I talked him through the late-night/ early-morning rendezvous that had occurred at my favourite spot just weeks earlier, my eyes and voices full of hope and intrigue. He listened intently and smiled from his heart, wishing me all the best for a new exciting adventure. We sat on the rocks looking out towards the ocean and listened to the waves lap the beach. The silence encapsulated our friendship. Between us there are no words unsaid nor truths buried; just two souls connecting and running towards our next destination separately and together, knowing that our paths will cross again soon someday.

Vancouver is an amazing city. Early-morning rendezvous at a semi-private beach, a past-bedtime bike ride from one end of the town to the other with a best friend, and the stunning, stunning (so gorgeous that I had to use stunning twice to describe it properly) views of the mountain and the ocean combined are reason enough to believe that magic is nothing short of reality. I am so happy to be able to call this home, and I am so lucky to have met the wonderful people who are the bestest of friends.

Love Letter to Tofino

Dear Tofino,

You’ve changed. The last time I saw you, we had a blast trekking through the forest to stunning viewpoints, and memories to last a lifetime. But now, five months later, everything looks different.

The trail that used to lead me to a vast web in the forest, now overgrown and deserted, no longer provides a tree-top view of the ocean. An once hidden, half-secret trail that connected two beaches is now replaced with a new, clearer path that was cut out of inconsideration to the environment. Your streets flooded with tourists. People who are there to simply take advantage of all that you have to offer but don’t give a horse’s arse about what they do to you. Selfish, indulgent, and spoiled humans who don’t realize you are a gift to the West Coast of BC.

But I still missed you. I miss the sparsity of human population when the sun disappeared below the horizons; going out on the streets with just the moonlight illuminating my way; the night-time adventures down at the docks seeking peace and a piece of my mind; the morning routine and breakfasts with strangers. The winter looked good on you.

Among many things, people I’ve met in the two months I called you home was a delight. Perhaps that’s one of the things that made this trip so different. Friends who are fun and happy to be around you were no longer there. The community and the house I once called home were disintegrated. I felt like a stranger; an ex visiting a girlfriend I dated ages ago.

Tofino, you are different. But it’s me who have been so spoiled to have experienced you in the winter, to know and feel what it’s really like to call you home among the locals. I hope you know that you will always be a home to me, and I hope that I will have a chance to return home soon.

 

Yours,

xoxo

Fourth St Docks

Someone asked me what was at the docks. Memories, I said. Memories of that night back in September; memories of perhaps one of the most romantic nights I’ve experienced. Memories of her soft lips suddenly touching mine and how we held each other in the cold night.

But it wasn’t until I was actually at the docks for me to realize what was really there: my heart!

I sat on the deck of a float house that’s now parked next to the dock where she stole my heart and look out at the calm waters. I am not sure what I should do. I came here hoping that I’d find a way for her to hold on to my heart and keep it safe. But now I’m not sure. I’m not sure what I’m feeling and I’m not sure if I can sort it out before I run out of time.

Looking at the ocean and the full moon in front of me makes me want to share this amazing view with her, but I am still confused.