Summer’s End

We’re hitting August and my ass still couldn’t sit still. 

My cousin and her boyfriend had purchased a cottage earlier that year in Halliburton and she asked me if I wanted to go up for a couple days. Absolutely! I was about it—away from the city surrounded by nature, sign me up! By this time my son had been coming home on the weekends from his course. He'd come home and I’d take off. I spent a couple nights up there with her and enjoyed her cottage and its surroundings.

Haliburton

The following week I was getting ready to take off again. 

Another friend of mine—Annissa has a second home in Killarney which is way up north. Her and her family were already up there. So me and my great ideas—I decided to take the bus up to Sudbury by myself from Union Station. They were meeting me up there at the bus depot and taking me the rest of the way up. I have never fucked with Union Station  before at anytime in my life—ever! If ever I took a bus out of town I always went to Bay Station. Not sure if that station even exists anymore. I’ve been to Yorkdale once or twice but Union Station—I knew it was fucking crazy in there, but I was willing to give it a go! 

Leggo!

I wanted to be with my friend and I was still on a nature kick. I wanted to be up there—above sea level. I needed that open sky. I wanted the forest and I was craving the fresh air. So I bought me a bus ticket packed up for a couple days and headed to Union Station to get on this bus. Union Station was crazy—intimidating as fuck! I left my house two hours earlier than my scheduled departure time so I could pitter patter around slowly—take my time and figure out where I had to go to wait for my bus—no stress—no falling down. 

I truly am a Fall Down Artist!

Everything worked out smoothly. I got on the bus for an eight hour ride and read an entire book. I couldn’t even tell you what the title of that book is right now, but I know I read the whole fucking book. They met me at the Sudbury Bus Station—everything was proper. Now I’m up north—still very much not in my head, I didn’t even feel like I was in my body. I was just there. Everyone was doing there own thing and didn’t seem to notice any difference in me either so ya—I was just there. Chillin’!

Chillin’

There was a moment there though when my girlfriend’s son-in-law arrived (his parents actually grew up in the same hood as I did) and when he realized  that I had open heart surgery and he saw me sitting there just barely three months out—he was like “whoa what?!”

In that moment—he saw me! He told me that his dad had the same type of surgery—open-heart. I’m not sure if he knew whether I was all there or not—but he definitely knew some serious shit had just went down with me. It was almost like I could feel him thinking to himself “what the fuck is she doing here—and by herself!?”

There was minimal activity while I was there and that was just fine—I was smack dab in the middle of nature. I saw some bears. I saw some geese and all of those things made me happy, they made me feel calm. I was where I wanted to be. 

Yep—they were in the garbage but I didn't care, that was the closest I had ever been to a bear!

Annissa had one of those 3 x 8’ backyard inflatable pools she was getting rid of and she asked me if I wanted it. I was like “fuck yeah” for sure! I took that baby home with me—scrubbed it down and filled er’ up!

Ducky!

My girlfriend Kelly was celebrating her 50th birthday. Kelly is a childhood friend of mine. We grew up in the same hood together. We had seen each other here and there over the years—however, it was quite a stretch before she showed up at my apartment prior to my surgery. She heard from someone that it was going down and  recognizing the scope of the situation she wanted to touch base with me beforehand. I don’t remember much of the conversation, but I do remember visiting with her and her telling me that if I needed anything, to holla! I was unadmittedly fucking scared—dazed about the whole thing. Mentally not all there at all—well before surgery. I appreciated her coming through.

Kelly showed up at the hospital a couple days after surgery and with an Epicure Shop wrap in her hand. Another fucking favorite of mine that I couldn’t eat. I called on Kelly while I was in the hospital—I asked her if she could pick me up some Greek food. After 10 days or so, I was finally hungry and sick of eating hospital food. She had a driving gig going on at the time and wasn’t able to park or stay. I had to meet her in the lobby.

Well, I wanted my food so there I was—la di da—walking through the hospital going down the long ass hallway to the elevators, down to the St Elizabeth Street lobby—I got my Greek food. I was all fucked up, dopey. I wasn’t even supposed to leave the floor or walk the halls alone—but I did it! I got my Athen’s souvlaki thanks to her!

So back to Kelly’s 50th—I wanted to go to her party. I was excited to go, but I was also nervous. As I said we grew up together. We know a lot of the same people from the grungy hood we grew up in. A place I had distanced myself from for years on years and had no interest in ever looking back. It’s not that I was embarrassed or ashamed of where I came from—I mean shit even though I was one of the few people that made it out of there somewhat normal—I just don't have the fondest memories of growing up there as a kid or as a teen. I didn’t fit in—as a kid or a teen. When shit goes down in the home, and secrets are kept—you move differently. I was always somewhat of a loner—bopping to the beat of my own drum. I always had a friend or two here and there but I never really did fit in—anywhere.

Kelly <3

I wasn’t sure how I would feel about seeing certain people again to be honest. Everything ended up being just fine. There were a few familiar faces I was happy to see and I quite enjoyed myself!

Then Charlie came through—I was super happy to see him!

I grew up in the hood from a baby or as far back as I can remember to age 11. My mom got married when I was 11 turning 12 and she moved us out the hood. From 11-14 there were several schools and several different addresses from grades 6-9. We moved often and all over the fucking place! I don't think things had quite turned out the way my mom had hoped they would.

We left that hood and moved directly into another hood, same shit, different pile, Rexdale! Albion and fucking Kipling for fucks sake! Quite the fucking jaunt from downtown where I grew up and definitely no better.

This is where I met Stacy. We’re the same age and we went to the same school, she lived a few doors down from me out the backyard side.

I was there for about a year or so before we moved again and it’s fucking mind blowing that in that short time we were around each other—knew each other at the ages of 11-12—that we both remembered each other many many years later—that we would reconnect sometime in our 30’s through social media and that she would be the one to meet me on the other side of what was the most traumatic experience of my entire life!! Coincidence some would say—I think not!

When I left home at 14—I went right back to the hood I grew up in. It was what felt like home to me, the place I lived at the longest. 

That's when I met Charlie. We hung out briefly during those days as we knew a few people that ran in the same circle. We also hung out a few times casually over the years— hooked up one time after Kayla was born and we saw each other again a few times in the early 2000’s when Kayla and I had moved back from BC.

There was always a reciprocal admiration between us and a high level of respect for one another. Charlie is one of the good guys—he always had his shit together! Why we never got together as an item—who knows!

When I saw him at Kelly’s party—he immediately felt like home for me! We exchanged numbers. He gave me a call a few days later and invited me up to his cottage. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go or not, wondering what the expectation would be—or even if there were any and if I was up for it.

I was still unknowingly in this delirium. I just basically thought at the time that I was normal and that this is the way I was now. I felt empty inside—like I was in a shell. No purpose—no clue what to do with myself.

Three months had passed since I last saw my Cardiologist and at our last appointment when she told me I needed to have another surgery—she had put me on watch. Tests and an appointment with her every four moths to monitor the flow of my “less than optimal leaky valve.”

I was told time and time again from my doctors that this was going to be my my full time job now after having heart surgery—taking care of my body. I clearly didn’t know how to do that or what that really meant then. Ohhh—but I was destined to find out!

I let my guard down. I trusted him, I trusted my gut, I went. I wasn’t all there, but he felt like home for me, and I wanted to be at a cottage. I wanted the outdoors. I wanted to be in nature. I’ve known Charlie for years, he was always safe for me—so I said yeah.

From the moment he picked me up, we were having a good time! Jamming to the tunes, the ’90s, smoking some weed, chillin’! Looking at the beautiful pink sky in the distance. It was peaceful as fuck!

I spent a couple nights up there with him and on the first night we kicked it for a bit. He showed me around his beautiful cottage, we watched some TV and then got into the Lemon Gin! A good ol’ familiar drink. We were having a good ol’ time! I felt seen, I felt safe. We had some laughs and went to bed. I was very relaxed, very comfortable.

That Lemon Gin!

I wonder now if Charlie knew I was fucked up and not in my right head. I remember telling him that night at the bar when I saw him that I had open heart surgery—I feel like I blurted it out! If he did notice we didn't talk about it or my surgery and I’m glad we didn’t. Thinking or talking about my surgery made me feel worse and even more light headed than I already was. It was like I wasn’t me anymore and at times like I wasn’t even there. I was even hiding my medication from Charlie—slipping upstairs to dose, trying to pretend like nothing major was going on with me.

I woke up the next morning to bacon and eggs! He took me around in his little golf cart to check out the area and at some point he went to go get something and I was left alone. I laid down on his couch and I slept! I don’t know for how long but I know I slept! It was a couple hours at least. I had finally slept and hard!

It was the first time in the longest time that I can remember throughout this delirium that I slept like that—I was still!