2 weeks to go

Here it is – I’m leaving for Toronto in two weeks. And the fantastic part is, I feel ready.

Originally I had planned to leave on April 26, just a week after my last day at my full-time job. However, for various reasons, I decided stay another month in the same rented room in Akron. And boy am I glad I did. Aside from the obvious benefits – hang-time with friends and family, resting – I’ve also had a lot to do.

Among the highlights of the last few weeks has been spending time with my 86-year-old grandfather, who's been telling me some family history. Walt Chisholm was born in Cleveland in 1926 and his family eventually settled in Ravenna, where his father worked in the grocery business. Walt earned a bachelor’s in music education at Kent State University (also my Alma Mater), specializing in percussion. He met my grandmother in college, proposed to her a year before she graduated, and she said “no.” Crushed, he retreated, only to find out a year later that, “when she said no, she meant ‘not yet’” – she merely wanted to finish college first. They married and settled in Portage Lakes where he earned a good salary as a grocery store owner. However, he heard the call to the ministry around 1958. I’m fuzzy on the details, but basically he moved the family to Indiana where they lived on a poor salary and relied on the generosity of the community to make ends meet. All wasn’t lost, though, as he ended up with increasing success as he moved to different churches. After retirement, he continued part-time doing grief counseling, hospital visits, and guest sermons. Walt truly found his passion, and you can hear it in his voice. I’ve realized that I have some things in common with my grandfather. Even though I don’t share his religious beliefs, I enjoy shared spiritual experience (I love yoga and ecstatic dance), and teaching others to live positively as a counselor and teacher. Also, I share the tendency to lecture other drivers when they’re getting in my way on the road.

I’m also glad I allowed myself time, because there’s more to do than I realized. Moving to another country isn’t like moving across town. You can’t leave a couple things with your old roommate for later. You have to make big decisions like: should I keep my car? And if so, will I have to get a new driver’s license now, or can I keep this one? Should I leave my car with a relative or donate it? Should I bring it with me and pay up to $200 a month for insurance, plus $50 for a garage parking pass, plus $3-$15 for parking wherever I go, or should I just take public transportation? You have to think about health insurance. And traveler’s health insurance. And whether you should get a bank account in Canada, or just put up with the ATM charges. Blah, blah, blah.  

Also, I’m moving in with my husband. Which means – “do you need an extra iron, honey? Should I keep my space heater? I know you have one, but…”

The other complication in my personal situation is that I’m not moving to Canada. Strange as it sounds, I’m just visiting, because I’m not a Permanent Resident yet. Therefore, when I cross the border, I won’t be bringing a U-Haul. I’ll be bringing the bare minimum, along with proof that I have a backup plan if my PR application is denied. I know it sounds weird, but believe me, it’s true. So I have to sort out my “bare minimums” and store the rest for later. I also have to procure proof that I have a job to return to, a place to live, and money saved in case it all goes sour at the CIC.

Despite all that, I’m not stressed out, because I have time, a yoga practice, and a whole lotta good vibes around me. I’ve done this sort of things before – moving large distances for love – but I’ve never taken this kind of time before. And despite the fact that ‘jumping in” can be invigorating, it’s been really nice to just survey the shore and soak up some rays. There are days when I want to just book it to the border and my husband, and I chide myself for staying so long. But more and more it’s just a sweet anticipation for the good things to come.