Back in the Saddle
Wow. What a difference a day makes. I’m back in Marrakech. I slept for 12 hrs straight through on an awesome bed. Got up and went straight to work. No rest for the wicked. The resting is over. All business now.
I am so pleased to be writing this post. Giddy in fact. Sitting in one my old favorite cafes enjoying salad and an avocado juice before heading to the airport to meet some guests. And I feel remarkably normal. In a weird way. Let me explain.
I love my friends. They are my friends because I love them and they love me. But they also understand that my life is not in Canada anymore and I had to leave. I’m still right there on Facebook. A mere phone call away. And you are welcome to come and visit Morocco at any time! We are here to plan for you, welcome you, help you. And let’s me honest – so many people are scattering on their own, growing new family members, doing exciting things. I’m not alone in this period of massive change.
But as you know dear readers, I was less than thrilled being in Ontario this summer. I felt out of place, weighed down and stifled. I remember the feeling of seeing people and connecting and smiling, but not smiling from the inside. There was no fire in my belly. The smile on my lips did not quite light up my eyes. I often felt like I would burst into tears when I tried to smile and it just didn’t feel real.
So I was nervous. Nervous to return. Really frightened that I had ruined it. I had literally killed the buzz. Stabbed it through the heart dead. I was really worried that I lost my nerve. That I had lost the steel that allows me to live here so easily and without fear or concern or frustration. I lay in bed nights thinking about how worried I was that I had lost a layer of something that I would need to continue my journey. Would I be able to push back all the Canadian that was oozing out and lower my eyes, hide my smile and protect myself when I returned.
Dumbass. What do we know? Really know? In a “I know this much is true because Oprah said so” kind of way?
Rust never sleeps. Love never dies. Some things are just meant to be. Destiny. Maktoub. “It is written.” (The first word I learned to write in Arabic by the way.) And so it is.
The journey home was a marathon. Three flights and two layovers. The one in Lisbon was 5+ hours but I bought my way into the lounge and had a wee nap. The luggage was heavy but I made it in one piece and nothing untoward happened.
And today, I can honestly say today is good day. I have a skip in my step and a smile in my heart. I have the layer I need to thrive here. No worries there. When I smile I smile from way down inside my gut. I can feel it. It radiates through me and spurs me onward. I’m back. And I’m really happy about it!
All is right with the world again. I’m home.