I’m praying that the jury’s still out.
My partner and I are starting over, with next to nothing in the North American sense; so much debt and so little income. But we have two Apple computers, an ancient Volvo, and one solitary “Get Out of Jail Free” card.
We appreciate a simple life, but while I’ve embraced many challenges over my lifetime, this seems a little overwhelming. I’m just walking out into the sunlight after 13 years of daily migraines. Shielding my eyes. The world seems so different. During that time, I’ve been unable to hold a traditional job, unable to support myself, unable to make plans for the future.
Amazingly, the daily migraines ended one month ago, on Halloween, 2006. Someday soon I’ll tell you the story.
As it happens, it’s a new life for my partner, too. Kristina has finally jumped through every flaming hoop required by Canadian law on her way to becoming a permanent resident. She remains an American citizen, only now she’s allowed to work in Canada, something that wasn’t legal in all the time that we’ve been together.
And so, we’re starting over in Lunenburg, Nova Scotia, a pretty town of 2,500 Bluenosers perched right on the Atlantic Coast. We couldn’t afford Halifax — Atlantic Canada’s biggest city, the place where I’ve lived my whole life — so we came here to save money, as we’ve had nothing coming in for almost two years. We have a small, comfortable apartment in a town that has changed little in the last 130 years.
We both love to write. Kristina is just starting out, and I need to re-ignite a freelancing career that once showed signs of promise, but now moulders. I feel like the skills I once had have left me. Perhaps that’s why early attempts have not been encouraging.
So many questions are still unanswered. Will I be able to start drinking wine again after 15 years and revive my wine-writing career? Will anyone hire me despite the 13-year hole burned into my resume? Can Kristina finish her young adult novel when more immediate (and paying) projects demand time and energy? Will we have enough in the bank for next month’s rent? For next month’s meds? Can I keep from throwing a hissy fit when a member of my family talks about having no money, even though all but one of my siblings own houses in Halifax’s trendiest neighborhoods and all of them can vacation in Europe?
We’re hoping that our lives have bottomed out, and that we won’t sink any further. How bloody maudlin! Truth to tell, I’m so fucking scared. And excited.
But who knows what’s going to happen next? I sure don’t. The jury’s still out.