Six months ago I said goodbye to my closest friends in a parking lot, a house basement, and an airport. I finished the last chapter of my life in Fredericton, and started a new adventure series- to Winnipeg.
I traded sporadic midnight trips to McDonalds, with four-hour Skype calls per day.
Instead of passing notes with friends in my French and English classes, I write all over their Facebook walls- in my new classes.
Rather than Wednesday morning breakfast dates before school, I send lengthy text messages about how much I miss them.
In exchange for long conversations in car parking lots, my friends send letters.
Instead of gossiping behind closed doors of my big white house, I gossip on the transit bus-where all of Winnipeg can hear me.
Six months ago, I sat in the backseat of a car for five days- regretting my decision to move West. I wanted to go “home”. And sometimes, I still do.
I miss knowing everyone at university-and what they take in their Tims coffee.
I miss going to my roommate’s bedroom at 2 a.m. when I just had a nightmare.
I miss parties at my big white house, where everyone sits on the floor because there aren’t enough chairs.
I miss grocery shopping with my roommates-and eating a full bag of M&Ms before checkout.
I miss going to the gym-for the sole purpose of talking about the people who are also at the gym.
I miss dancing in my kitchen to One Direction and Whitney Houston, while my roommate unpacks all my groceries.
I miss buckets of dialogue on a Friday night.
I miss the pile of dishes that my roommates and I never did.
I miss getting stuck in our driveway every time it snowed, because we were always too cheap to buy a shovel.
I miss finding friends who did shovel our driveway, because they knew we were too cheap to buy said shovel.
My new adventure is different. And a lot has happened since I said my goodbyes.
Now, I have Sunday breakfast dates instead.
Now, I choose to dance in my hallway-to the Baha Men.
Now, I own a shovel.
Thankfully, there is always someone to take part in this adventure series of mine-whether they’re an old friend who lives on the other side of the country, or a new one who happens to be under the roof-of a different big white house.