The myth of going back

It’s been a minute, I know. I needed a little down time. Thanks for still being here!

During those pandemic lockdowns when I was in Newfoundland and longing to travel again, I was preoccupied with the idea of going back. Going back in that literal, geographical sense to the places I loved, but also going back to a previous way of living, a previous sense of safety. While I was locked down, going back became an idea of returning to a rhythm of life as I knew it: a bit of cat sitting here or there, a winter in a warmer place than St. John’s. Going back also meant returning to specific places I had visited once and now loved.

Did I ever tell you that I had this weird thing for a while with my best friend in high school where we pretended to be spies and were planning to meet up in Athens? (Carol, you remember this, don’t you?) It was a bit of absurdist humour at the time, Athens being the most out-of-this-world place I could imagine.