Will You Take Me As I Am, Strung Out On Another Man?

Today is the first day I have felt homesick since I got here.

Today my main thought is Canada.

Right now at home, the weather is turning cold, and it is the epitome of Canada in my mind. 

The leaves are turning, and people are starting to see their breath in the mornings.

The mornings.

The mornings. 125A College. Waking up early.  Way earlier than class starts. Walking downstairs in slippers, wearing sweatpants, a baggy t-shirt, and a sweatshirt.  Opening the back door, stepping out onto the deck, taking a deep breath, and feeling so happy to be a witness to another great day.  CBC, tea outside with morning reading material, and a bowl of frozen blueberries while the tip of my nose gets cold.   Smokes and coffee. 

The mornings.  115 Heritage Ave.  This time of year always feels so quiet.  Hastily stepping out of the turquoise front door in the morning - bare feet - to see how cold it is so that you can choose appropriate clothes for the day.  Then realizing that its kind of nice, to be outside that early, to be apart of that moment.  There is a hush.  The country feels like it is getting ready for the sleep ahead, and you can almost hear the place breathe. 

People on our street are starting to wake up, moms and dads are getting their kids ready for school.  They are starting to wear vests and coats.  You can hear the rumble of the school bus at the top of the street.  Frost starts to replace dew on the grass, and for the first time in a long time you put the heavy blanket on your bed. 

The mornings.  Coming into the kitchen with the tiles cold on my feet, scowling at the human alarm clock that insists on waking me, Dad pausing from dishes or ironing to give me the perfect hug when I walk up to him to sleepily warm up in his chest. 

These days Dad is barbecuing, listening to tracks like Neil Young – Philadelphia, Joni Mitchell – River, and Tom Waits - Waltzing Matilda.  Drinking red wine with the dim light on over supper, dishes forgotten for more important things like friends, family, and freecell. 

Coming home on a Saturday, the smell of pickling throughout the house is perfectly complimented by the worn wood.

People are starting to decide their Halloween costumes, and the Co-op just smells different this time of year.  Something about the pumpkins and crispness to everyone’s clothes.

Its midterm season.  

My poor mother is starting to bundle up and be in a constant state of cold.  With the change in season comes a change in her cooking.  She starts to cook amazing dishes with squash, pumpkin, and turnip.  And for some reason she always becomes more adventurous with cooking and baking in the colder seasons.  She changes.  Summer is over, and so is the lightness of her ability to walk outside in bare feet.  With the need to get warm, she becomes so warm.  She says summer is her favorite season, but I don’t believe that.  There is just something about the way that she is in these months that is just, right.  And natural.  And her.

She is starting to turn the fire on in her apartment.  Wool socks are in high supply. This time of year reminds me of my mom so much.  Things like Ovaltine.  And lunches.  And the smell of coffee and burnt toast with jam.  And her long off-white cotton nightie with the flowers at the top.  Days getting out of a warm bed to put your feet on a cold floor, sit on the kitchen stool and have her make breakfast and run her fingers in your hair.  To try and braid your hair.  To both read at the counter with breakfast.  She is so soft spoken in the mornings.

Sometimes I feel like my whole life happens in late September, October, and early November.   I always feel a certain way.  I feel like waking up early, like the sound of coffee brewing, like the feel of a newspaper under your fingertips, like the smell of apples, and like the sound of a maple tree.  I feel like Tracy Chapman, Alanis Morrisette, Jewel, and Neil Young.  I feel like David Grey, Rob Lutes, and the more melancholy varieties of Counting Crows and Coldplay.  I feel like Forever, Halfway Home, and Spoon.

This is the first year in my life that I haven’t been in Canada this time of the year.  But I can feel it when I close my eyes.  I can see it.  Smell it.  Hear it.  It’s so real I feel like I could be there.  And I’m so relieved to be happy that it is happening even though I’m not there.