I love Calgary in the fall. I've only been back for a week now, but everything I love about here, everything new to love is almost overwhelming in how happy it makes me. It is my own city, something that I've molded to my liking. I've made my own memories here. There are evenings in my backyard, where the sky is a dark blue with the sun almost down, the tall spruce tree whispering as the wind caresses every single needle. It is so quiet in those moments that my entire life is clear to me.
Today, on the bus on the way to work, I looked out the window and noticed the snowy mountains to the west, only visible in that moment because we were traveling on an overpass. Nowhere else would that view be an every day occurrence. Calgary has it's own special meaning to me. It's quiet kitchens with a good book, CBC radio, and a cup of tea. It's wind-blown grey days when every molecule is electric. It is me often alone, but never lonely. I found my soul here. It keeps me grounded and every piece of me is magnified, prepared for constant healing and creativity. Calgary is my balance.
"(59) Tell her how you feel while you stand at the foot of the huge bed and look upon her sleeping body, while cursing yourself for being a ghost whose words cannot be heard by the living."
- One hundred ways to say I love you
