"Sell up and Move"

 This photo has been my laptop wallpaper for the past week. And each time I sit down, I drift in with that home-coming sailboat.

After my BC month in August, home-based on False Creek with a dear old friend, I arrived back in Ontario with one thought on my mind. I wanted to go "home." 

Now I was born and bred in now-fabulous Prince Edward County, but spent many formative years in Vancouver in the 70s and 80s. Met the love of my life there. Each time I go back I feel 'home.'  

That begins the 'whys'. Here is some photographic evidence.

On my return to Ontario in September I began checklists - what I would need to do to downsize and return to Vancouver?

And what would I need? A tiny apartment in the West End, where I "began" in 1972. A pedestrian and water taxi life. Stanley Park my backyard. Vancouver Public Library. All of the above.

What is it about Vancouver? For me, it's the (rare) sun on the North Shore mountains. The head-clearing tang of ocean air. The lush and rare vegetation encouraged by a temperate rainy climate. The way the ocean sidles in along False Creek and Burrard Inlet. The people energy. The visual over-abundance. The indigenous art and culture. The dear friends. The personal history. Memories.

How can I resist the siren call this time?

Sigh. So, this is where my thinking ended up.

 The 'why not' arguments.  

 Ralph, my father, 'practical Pierce' as our mother jokingly called him, sometimes despairingly, took charge. 

I seemed to hear him saying of unreliable shiftless folk that they were the type to "sell up and move."

The work. The cost. The stuff. The family. The roots. The friends. The practical business of an organized life.

Well, the age. It it too late for new beginnings? 

In a few years I will have reached (all going well) the inconceivable age of 80. Didn't expect that in 1972.

So, here I am on the cusp of an Ontario winter (so far, so good).

 And here, alas, I will stay. 

With a bit of me snagged on a bit of Vancouver. Until I get back soonest.