on the other hand...

there are clouds sitting like trolls on top of the mountains
no really, I haven't seen more than a teasing glimpse of sun for days on end
my very soul is damp
the Barkerville cat spends her days dreaming on our green-room couch
dreaming of warmth, of foxes, of whistle pigs ripe for the crunching
while outside the rain is sheeting down

bears really do lurk in the woods
and doubts like grizzlies growl and mutter
inside my mind from time to time
the age-old questions, even here:
what am I doing?
where do I fit in?
am I loved?

there are always dishes in the sink
and mud on the floor
and tiny biting bugs that wriggle their way through any screen
and almost no solitude

stand strong, feet firmly planted
and remember to take up as much space as you deserve
remember that joy has its flipside, sorrow
and that both are fleeting, but important
remember that there is no misfortune that cannot be made smaller
by sugar, fatty foods, friendship, music and sleep

there are bumps in the road, even here
and boredom and dirt and frustration
but that doesn't change the essentials
all the good things that are
this I know, deep down

2 nights ago
an evening trip to a cold, cold lake
there were four of us racing behind trees to change into swimsuits
dashing towards the shadowed water
I was the first one to dive in
and the first one to scream
breath rasping inoutinout as my feet grew numb
but we all dared, more than once
and we have pictures to prove it

then a dusk drive to the middle of nowhere
a place where men once sought gold, built homes
where seven women were wives, storekeepers, whores
where now there is nothing
no ruined cabins, no half-buried treasures
just a fast, icy creek
secretive trees
the danger of bears
and a road becoming overgrown and narrow

If I walked further along
past where we stopped the car
past washouts and fallen trees and old tailing piles
would I walk into history
like those long-ago gold-seekers
so that one day someone would come to this place
and half-hear my voice
in the wind

I fall in love with you slowly every year
reluctant to arrive here
in your lingering days of spring mud and roof-high snow drifts
you cannot win me over with the ocean
your mountains are no great things, your lakes are hidden away, not easily found

my love is slow-growing
no sudden thunderbolt-
a breath of utterly clean air
ragged clouds brushing treetops
abandoned gold-rush ghost towns
metal roof raindrops at 3am
the sight of a town at sunset
lifting my heart as I come home

Daytime/Nighttime

Daytimes up here are easy: breakfast, cleaning, commute, show, lunch, show, rehearsal, commute, dinner, hanging out- It's hard work, but the routine and the company are soothing and a lot of fun.
Night-times, it's harder not to think about the end of work up here and the new life that's waiting for me back home. Okay, it's not just that that's on my mind. There's a lot of stuff, both here-and-now and future, to mull over. There is so much to think about, and it bubbles up into the forefront of my mind when I'm trying to sleep. The night before last, sleep was so long in coming that my eyes had a permanently red sheen all yesterday, and working up the energy for 2 shows and a rehearsal felt like swimming through a muddy bog. My brain literally felt fried. It always makes me laugh when I watch shows like "24" and the hero's been up for a full 24 hours and he's still saving the world; I'd be curled up in the fetal position, sobbing... and that's just if things were going normally- I can't imagine what I'd do in a crisis.
Fast forward to today, and 10 hours' sleep makes life look a lot more bearable... Here I sit, in my 19th-century Irish whore's costume, plugged into the 21st century with the aid of my laptop and the theatre's wireless internet. The 2nd show begins in about 15 minutes. I have an unshakeable feeling that I am exactly where I need to be right now, and that makes the midnight fears- about things like moving, and housing, and love- feel very far away indeed. I tip my water bottle in salute to Johanna Maguire, the Irish whore in question, whose life was, by all accounts, both brutal and short, and whose indomitable spirit I get to try and portray in our 4-o'clock show, 6 days a week. And then I shut my laptop, take a deep breath, and step onto the stage.

and then...

It's still cold here.
Rain today, cloaks on over giant dresses and petticoats- halfway through June and I still need tights under bloomers!
But this is superficial, because I. Am. Back.
Dusty house, crazy roommates, cooking together and laughing like hyenas in spite of sad stuff. Bliss.
Rehearsals, and shows, and more rehearsals and more shows... and a gala opening to look forward to on Saturday:
3 weeks and a day post-surgery.

I left some things behind in Vancouver:
warm weather (sadly. it's still like earlyearly spring here),
cancer,
some of my summer clothes (a packing oversight, unfortunately).
And my relationship.
Yeah, I DID just say "my relationship".
Obviously, this is not just MY story, and so I will be brief in the telling.
But after 14 years it felt like time.
It felt like that to me.
But maybe not to the other person involved.
So I got to be the one who dropped a bomb and then left the city.
And he got to be the one who stayed and dealt with the fallout.
I'm not proud of that. But I didn't see another way around it either.

So now I get to be... what?
single, I guess.
Wow.
I'll probably turn out to be a Crazy Single Cat-Lady.
since I wasn't too good at those games when I was 23, and I certainly don't think I've improved much in the interim
but I guess I'll learn.
Or I'll buy a cat. And then another one. And then...
well, you get the idea.
Anyway, it felt like the right thing to do.

I could say more about this- and I will-
but for now I have a costume to put on
makeup to apply
and a small ghost town of tourists to entertain.
Later.

slightly expanded from my latest Facebook status update:

flight to Cariboo: booked for Friday afternoon.
hair: cut and coloured (thank god. I look 10 years younger).
hockey game: game 3 tonight!

Oh yeah... one more thing:
Cancer? Officially GONE!!! Lab results came back this afternoon. Now I can breathe again.

one week in

so- fingers crossed- one week from today i will be back in the cariboo, rehearsing and performing shows. i woke up this morning, looked at the clock and thought: wow. this time last week i was already unconscious and under the knife.
this friday i can:
get out of bed unaided
shower
dress myself
go for long walks, although this makes certain family members nervous
entertain guests
next week i'll have to be doing a whole lot more than that, which is exciting but nerve-racking too. when i think too much about having missed nearly three weeks up there by the time i go back i get a bit crazy, so i've been keeping busy and learning my scripts and a brand-new accent for one of the shows- a dublin accent, very fun.
everyone's been superstars down here, but i'm starting to feel ready for the more rough-and-tumble treatment i'm going to get from theatre royal and the rest of the barkerville gang. there's only one thing...
the pathology report, which i won't get until next week, which will conclusively say whether or not there's cancer in my lymph nodes.
the surgeon thinks probably not.
i FEEL pretty great,
they did the surgery, which is a good sign,
and i have to go ahead and book my flight soon, but...
i won't know for sure until next week, and although my spirits are high, it's another wait for news, and on some level, it's driving me nuts.
so keep your fingers crossed for me one more time, won't you?