Hi Reader

Spring is here, though chilly. We’ve passed the equinox and the days are noticeably longer. There have even been some real beauties, those warmish blue-sky days that pull us outside. Sometimes though they fool us, looking so nice but then a harsh wind reminds the skin that it’s still March. For a few more days anyways…

It's been a lengthy landing back here in Ontario, with the memories of our time in Costa Rica teasing us, taunting us with the desire for just one more sunset, one more swim in the waves.

And I’ve been sad... I wish I could just pop down there, go for the weekend, touch home without it costing so much and taking so long. I wish I could be both here and there at the same time. I wish I didn’t feel pulled apart.

I know I’m lucky in lots of ways…. Lucky to call Costa Rica home, lucky to speak Spanish, lucky to have had a place to escape to when I was younger, lucky to know the Pura Vida way. Lucky, yes.

But still, pulled apart. My heart lives in two places, never to feel settled or at home. It’s a running joke in my family how often I move houses, forever seeking that sense of belonging, of being where I’m supposed to be.

They say home is where the heart is, but that doesn’t work when my heart is both here and there.

Shortly after my first son was born, our little family of three went to Costa Rica for a couple months. Life wasn’t set yet. We were living in a rental house in Vancouver. Baby daddy had a good job but was open to change. We discussed making the move, raising our family on the beach. In the town we liked most there were lots of Canadians, a small beachfront hotel for sale and an addiction recovery centre where I could work.

I often think back to that possibility… would we have been happy? Happier? Would the Pura Vida life have kept me and baby daddy together? Would me and my neurodivergent children have been more at ease with less stress, more outside living? Would I have felt more at home, more settled?

I have no idea.

We didn’t do it because I like things to be simple, and I really don’t like being hot all the time. I can now see how these line up with my neurocomplex brain and body. I like life in Canada. I like the seasons. I like things being the way I expect them to be. I like it when things stay the same. The ‘tism is strong.

But I also like adventure, exploration... and lying by the pool reading books. That’s possibly my favourite thing about the Pura Vida life, how much I read. The slower pace that seems to leave time for those things more than I seem to have here in Canada. I read three books while we were away, but only a few chapters since we got back.

I just want it all, at once, in the same place. Too much to ask, I know. Not possible, I know.

But what do I do with this ache? This sense of being unsettled, of being here but not really?

I write. It helps. I spend time with the people here that I love dearly. I engage with other women in business who are exciting and inspiring. I snuggle my kids. I keep making our home more homey.

I look inward. I love inward. I trust inward.

I have not been gifted a simple life this time around, rather it is one with much possibility and potential, joy and grief. I was just 19 years old, bopping back and forth between Canada and Costa Rica regularly, when I was first told I should write a memoir. This life of mine is rich in experience and emotion, if also in challenge and uncertainty.

But my writing, it weaves it all together. It offers introspection and integration. The words soothe me, every time. They offer a way to be here, and there, and in my heart.

I can write my heart out and that means I’m at home wherever I find the words.

Over and over again, writing is my balm. Sacred Pages is a designated time for your writing to soothe your heart too. The Spring series starts April 23rd and is now open for registration if you’d like to join us. We will revel together in the Spring season, and let our words be our home.

Thank goodness for writing,

Parrish

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