sign of the times...

I recently drove home, from my old home to my even older home but that's not important right now, westbound from Calgary to Vernontowne via the new and literally out-of-this-world construction encompassing Rogers' Pass. Jesus. That is a sign of the times. A far cry from when Paul and I took the bus to Vancouver through sleepy, winter deathtrapville. Now it is bustling, late summer outer-Jetson-city-limits style with divided highway reaching to the sky and a bridge fit only for a rocket ship (if rockets took bridges that is). The whole way home I thought about Matt and Jamie and how they would love all these crazy rock formations and how different it all looked since my last trip home.

Anyways, that bridge is a sign of the times. And while I'm on the subject, let me talk about other signs of the times. My full car careening down the highway with my mom at the helm, a sure sign of her attempt at controlling my inevitable departure to Spain. Fair enough. The coolish nights in Vernon that signify the coming of fall (only barely). Our new summer cabin, furnished and looking fabulous (development and luxury). Wincing, holding back tears but refusing to break down and finally letting myself admit that you hurt me more than I've ever been hurt and accepting the fact that I'm not a bad person for wanting to forgive you but never ever forgetting the deception, the heartache and just the general lack of compassion you brought to the table: a sign that I'm going to be okay after all.

I hate to do this blog style but it's the only way I know how. I'm not playing cold war games anymore. It is not my responsibility to fix this. My life is fabulous and I have many people who love me. It's my party, and sometimes your invitation just gets "lost in the mail".