I’ve lived a lot of places in my life, some of them I’ve really loved, some of them I detested.  And a couple of the ones I’ve destested, well lately, I find myself missing them.  The old addage is true, you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.
As long as I’m with my family, I’m happy, I’m content, I know I’m loved.  But then there’s elements outside of the home that make life at times unbearable.  I spent years trying to get away from Edmonton.  Couldn’t wait until the day came when I could say good bye.  All I focussed on in the last few years there were the Bad memories.  It wasn’t until I was away from there that I allowed the good memories to filter in.  It started when I finally forgave my father for being an asshole most of his life.  I realized that he wasn’t being an asshole, he was being who he was raised to be…ultimately.  He grew up in a household where love wasn’t something spoken of openly.  It was just to be assumed.
He died when I was 15, and we were living in Edmonton at the time.  Mom and I moved back to Chicago after he died.  To say that I was sad about it at the time would be a lie.  I felt liberated.  I felt freed from a smothering blanket.  Years later, I came to realize, in his own twisted way, he did love me, and wanted the best for me.  However, force feeding everything HE wanted me to be, wasn’t the best way to go about it.
He was a tech freak.  When computers were in there first stages of being used wide spread he was there.  He was from a time pre-PC, and when the PC came around, he was like a kid at Yule.  He brought one home and immediately set about teaching me how to program.  A couple years went by, he got more firm about me learning the programming languages that were emerging.  What did I do?  What any self respecting rebellious young teen would do.  I fought against him tooth and nail.
I am kicking myself now of course.  I’ve never been good with being told what to do.  And that’s probably because I was taught to be an adult at 3, and was quite self sufficient by the time I was 7.  I could cook my own steaks by then, made the best fried eggs in the house, baked cookies, made my own lunches, started smoking…yup, a little adult.
As I got older, the things that I loved to do, music, highland dancing, cooking, learning about the computer, became a chore.  I HAD to do them.  I lost my passion for them.  I couldn’t just do them for fun, or for the enojoyment.  Joy had nothing to do with my future.  That was the message.
Looking back, I shouldn’t have been such an asshole myself.  LOL

7 years after he died, I was back in Edmonton, broke, a drunk, and a really damned good cook.  But being a drunk, kept me from finishing my apprenticeship to be a full fledged chef.  I got cleaned up, dried out, started enjoying things again.  Then the bad memories started flooding back, I couldn’t stand most of the people I was encountering, and blamed it on the city.  As soon as I had a job offer out here, we started making plans to get out of Dodge, because it was going to be better.  HAH!
Don’t get me wrong, there are a lot of great things about Ontario, and as I said, as long as I’m with the ones I love, I can live anywhere, but the West has been calling again.  We need a trip out there.  Travel’s supposed to be in the cards for us this next year.  I say bring it on!  LOL

We have a family vacation booked for the beginning of November that’s going to be awesome.  I like travelling.  We just haven’t had the opportunity for it as much as we’d like.  I’m sending positive thoughts out to the universe to bring us more fun family travel time. 🙂

And, as my coffee is nearly finished, it’s time for bed. G’nite interweb!

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