The memory begins like this. I’m sitting in the window seat, to my right, is Harris (my partner) and the aisle seat next to him is empty. … His hand is still on mine, I know he knows I’m crying and I also know he knows just to let me. The plane begins to speed up and as I sit there amid an Oscar-worthy scene I realise I’m in the middle. Literally and figuratively.

I think death and doom scrolling Linked-In share more commonalities than differences. Long awaited blog post five talks about my absence on this page, the coming back to life after grief, and my job as a housekeeper moving through spaces of the living while feeling like a ghost.

Officially, it has been one whole year out of Canada and I have avoided sitting down to write about it for the entire week. Thoughts on writing as a tool and revisiting an old journal entry.

Wondering thoughts on wanting and change and how we hold multiple truths.

There are a million reasons why people might leave or stay, for me the reason I left was because I thought there might be more, and maybe it was bravery or naivety but something in me was willing to go find out.

As memories come and go in snippets, so will my stories; out of order, some in full detail, some hidden behind occasional mind-fog, and if no one reads on let this blog stand as the chronicles of my 20-something-year-old-self trying to figure it out, whatever “it” may be.