The detritus of our lives, and I became Canadian.

It's one week today, until departure. This time next week we will have flown the coop, blown this popsicle stand, made like babies and headed out. Or, as my brother might say, it's time to
"make like a tree and get out of here!"

I jest to hide the emotion. It's been an emotional few weeks and I know, as our sleep decreases and stress increases over the next few days, it will become more emotional. My usual stonewalling of all-things-feeling-related is being threatened by the enormity of what we are doing. The four of us had a quiet moment a week or so ago as we had dinner on our sunny deck and we each pondered precisely what it is about our Yukon life that we will miss. I wrote it all out but due to a lack of time (and desire to not delve too much into my feelings-things) I can't rattle them all off. Topping the list was our Yukon family, both those of blood and those of choice. Our community. It gets me going just thinking about it. And to make the whole emotional recipe more complex we continue, in these last few days, to try and build a shed, host numerous garage sale's as well as 6-year-old-birthday parties.

Well, it was just the one 6-year-old-birthday-party, but it was at the same time as a garage sale and we had what felt like thousands of people streaming in and out of the house. I was hosting the birthday party, Shea had recruited two friends to run the garage sale so he could run between the two. Only the night before the party I'd realized that I hadn't planned a thing for Lox's shin-dig; he always seems to get shafted as the second born. I scrambled together a craft as the guests were arriving and the old scrabble tiles we keep for turning into fun magnets, became the last minute party craft. We had melting ice cream cake and a sulking party boy who wouldn't smile for the camera.

I felt overwhelmed and like I wasn't doing anything well. And then, as I drew breath in the quiet of the house as the last guest left and I readied myself for the overnight party we were heading to next, I caught sight of the note a dear friend had spelled out in the scrabble letters. It made me well up and reminded me of how well loved we truly are, no matter where we are. This last cancer year really drove that home. And again now, as friend after friend pulls into the driveway to drop off a meal or cart away some of our rubbish or to help Shea pound some nails. We feel it when we get the emails telling us how much we will be missed or how much our arrival is looked forward to. There is such tension in leaving as it means we will be arriving somewhere else. 

I look forward to writing more in the weeks to come as we adventure through the UK, Norway, France and on to Australia. In the meantime, we ready ourselves for saying farewell to Yukon. We will miss our community.

Our wilderness.

The flowers on my deck.

That last one was really only me, but it was heartfelt. 

And amongst it all, I became a Canadian, eh? Fancy that!