Unsettled

In less than a week, I’ll be back at work after the summer break. Normally, we spend our first days together asking each other how our holidays were, and sharing stories about our adventures. “How was your summer?” is the “How are you?” of teachers returning in September after long absences from one another.

“Unsettled” will be my answer, and it won't be a reference to the relatively cool weather that marked most of the past two months. I say relatively because we are used to baking beyond 30C on most July and August days, and we've mostly held at or just beyond two-thirds of that since school let out. It's been unusually rainy too, and my vegetable garden has been a failure with all crops except strawberries, who seemed to thrive in their little corner whiskey cask. The rest, sadly, drowned or saw too little sunlight to produce much: at last count, I had nine green beans, one pepper, five cherry tomatoes, and the beginning one lettuce head. A pathetic yield, really, and uncharacteristic of my normally greener thumb.

Soaking up the sun by the sea and sand in Cuba.

In many ways, the break was very good. I took three short trips abroad, and the weather everywhere was warmer than the summer that never was in Toronto. My visit to San Francisco was prompted by the sudden death of a close friend, but amidst the shock, grief, and wish that he could have lived a long, beautiful life,  a gentle healing took place between me and members of his family, and for that, I am grateful. I was reminded by walks on Ocean Beach of how much I love that city, and how I’ve missed it in the four years that our families were estranged. My short jump to Pennsylvania and then to Atlantic City to see The Who reunited me with dear friends, gave me the chance to meet new ones, and also brought me face to face with old bloggers in the Who family I’ve known online for over a decade but never 'met'. It was a wonderful concert in a smallish venue, and once again a stroll along the Boardwalk on the opposite North American ocean shoreline was soothing. It's funny to me how much the presence of water has a calming effect on my psyche, and how I need a dose of sea and sand to ground myself every now and then. Finally, at the end of the month, I went down to Cuba with close friends and my sister, and the week on the beach surrounded by a hot sun, warm turquoise water, and great company was the perfect tonic for recharging my batteries. In the city itself, I also got to see Tears For Fears, U2, Queen, and Coldplay give four completely different but wonderful live shows, and I do hope to give them all a proper review when I get settle my brain down to turn my notes into coherent paragraphs to do them all justice.

30th Anniversary of the Joshua Tree Tour, June 23rd, 2017, at Skydome.

Queen with Adam Lambert, Air Canada Centre, July 18th, 2017.

The Who in Atlantic City, July 22nd, 2017.

This was the first August spent at home in four summers, and my “On This Day” Facebook reminders made me miss my friends and family in Europe and Scotland more than I expected. I do wish whoever is in charge of inventing teleportation would get on with it so that I could hop over for weekends at regular intervals. While the summer weather continued to elude the city, I didn’t mind so much after Cuba because I’d had the tropical beach escape and it was time to tackle the renovations that had started in late May. The inside of the house got a major and much-needed decluttering, and we are now approaching the latter stages of a serious backyard and front porch makeover. Not only will it look stunning when all is done, but it will be the oasis I’ve always wanted. I quite fancy the idea of spending my next few summers (and beyond, when I retire) listening to birds and other music as I write and try to add colour to my legs and arms, not to mention having garden parties again. I have been watching the metamorphosis with a big smile, because this mess of a farmhouse we bought eight years ago is slowly becoming the sanctuary I always thought it could be with a few changes. In the meantime though, the clutter and mess are disruptive and unsettling, because visual disorder is overwhelming and stressful to my ADHD brain.

The nearly completed back yard retreat.

The unsettled part, however, is more mental at the moment and beyond the temporary discomfort of my physical surroundings. I feel rattled by the world around me, by the news of white supremacists in a country of immigrants, by the devastating floods of Houston, Mumbai and the Niger river, and by the sadly predictable summer terrorist attacks in Europe and Africa. This time, though, it is not only strangers who have been the targets of horror and violence: a former teaching colleague and her husband were among the victims of the Burkina Faso shootings, and their deaths shook me because of the endless senselessness of such acts. What do they actually accomplish, except to discourage people from making the world a better place by cocooning and growing more isolated? Is the goal of terror to immobilize us and keep us from talking to one another, or is it just deep frustration and anger that can't pinpoint its target and therefore lashes out randomly? It enraged and saddened me because the woman I knew who died in that café was making a difference in the lives of less privileged people and we are all now deprived of her future contributions, which I know would have continued to be important and necessary for those she helped. I'm sure people who knew other victims would say similar things about the friends and family they've lost, and I just can't help but wish that these angry folks gunning down strangers would just do us all a favour and remove themselves instead if they think so little of the world around them.

Both her passing and the death of my friend in California are also a sad reminder that this beautiful life is fragile, and that we never know how long we have or how cruelly people can be taken from us. It is often said that you cannot appreciate happiness without experiencing sadness, and that both states are forever fleeting. Whether it is a good thing or not, it’s how life is, and we must learn to ride out the waves and be grateful when they are gentle and warm. I suspect that by next week, I will be so busy with my new classes and all the responsibilities and work that go with a fresh school year that I will not pay attention to the news as much. I will resettle into routine and not have the time to cry over animals and families rendered homeless by the floods, or over people who should still be living their beautiful lives had fate not cut them short. Being busy is a blessing of sorts, and one that I hope I can appreciate when it happens.

My furry heart, Creemore.

Perhaps I should take a lesson from my beloved calico, Creemore, who despite the cloudy days, always seems to find that little spot of sunshine wherever she is.