Dear Vancouver,
Four years ago, I was ready to start my life as one of
yours: A Vancouverite. Everything about you was new then, Vancouver, even your
intrusions, and I was exhilarated but never exhausted by you – just as I was by
the cutie I had chased.
Within three years, the cutie had said “I am sorry” and
left. Oh, Vancouver, you become my date
and we went to the opera, to plays, to gritty little restaurants in Gastown and
Main. You – the city- were always my date. But you never belonged to me. Eventually you, too, moved on, taking your
buzzing promise of happiness to the next newcomer.
And now that have finally found the willpower to leave,
there are a few things I have long wanted to tell you
Vancouver, I won’t miss your raining season and your people
who don’t smile. I will never forget how
dating you made me so hopeless that I forgot how to turn the lights on in my
darkest moments.
Most of all, I won’t miss how you daily reminded me of this:
that once the cutie has said “I am sorry” and left, there was no more lonesome
place on earth than your West End on a warm summer’s night when the girls and boys cling to each other
as if to keep the other from floating away.
But, Oh, Vancouver! Who am I kidding? I will miss our walks
in English Bay, our dreams together, my
friends, the crazy adventures with you…
What I love about you, Vancouver, and what also breaks my
heart is the same thing. You are everything and yet you are slippery,
standoffish, and ungraspable. Vancouver
you are like a courtesan is best admired from a distance – and most thoroughly
enjoyed on short visits.
Love always,
A
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