HerKind.com

Last night I dreamt about Vancouver.

Again.

All night long.

The mountains, the beaches. The fresh air.

I know Hurricane Ike devestated Texas, but I understand why people live on the ocean. At sea level.

I miss it. Like you wouldn't believe.

No matter how hard I try to love Toronto, and I do in the way you'll always have a soft spot for your first love, I keep cheating on it with Vancovuer. Even in my sub-conscious. Of course that makes it even more real.

Lately I've been leaving Toronto for the suburbs to make some necessary writing-fuel money. It's a exhaustingly long commute and is just far enough away to make me appreciate the city and my neighbourhood, stroller mafia and all. Part of the commute is on the Scarborough RT, an above ground train of sorts. When I'm on it, I can't help but think of the Skytrain in Vancouver, which I took regularly from my Burnaby neighbourhood to my workplace. So, when I look out the window in Scarborough I half expect to see mountains.

In the presence of a mountain even a tedious, noisy, stuffy, germ-filled transit ride can seem transcendant. At least from my current vantage point.

Once in awhile a shadow - or is it an apparition? - makes me think I really do see one.

The disappointment colours my day. For a variety of reasons, some real, some idealistic. One of which is the knowledge - very recently acknowledged by me - that I cut and ran from there too soon and for the wrong reasons.

Since I'm Vancouver's scorned, but ever hopeful lover, I'm waiting for the city of my dreams to ask me back.

But for now I guess I'll continue to make a go of loving the one I'm with and leave my longing to the intimacy of sleep.