200

According to my Blogger account, this is my 200th blog post.

Coincidentally, 200 is also the number of kilometers (almost exactly) between here—my mom's house—and my family—my house.

When the prospect of my having to commute back and forth between Montreal and Ottawa first came up, I actually thought that it might be a little difficult, but in the end, I wouldn't mind it so much. It was since last summer that I was feeling a little cramped, a little lonely being at home and not in a formal workplace. It was time, I had decided, to set out and go back to work.

So when I was offered a job in Ottawa, I happily, and excitedly, accepted. My supervisors were more than willing to be flexible with my work hours, which allow me to work my 37.5 hours in four days, leaving me the opportunity of having three-day weekends in Montreal.

I pictured me travelling along on the Voyageur bus, back and forth between Ottawa and Montreal—a trip I know well— reading a good novel, perhaps writing my musings on life and the meaning of it all. And weekends spent with Derek and the girls, living out our last months in Montreal, visiting our favourite places and discovering new ones before we leave. Dinners with friends. Leisurely packing up our belongings. And in Ottawa? I figured that since I didn't have the children to look after in the evenings, I would be free to do all kinds of activities. I might sign up for a pilates class. I would definitely see my friends... at least once a week. I would visit houses with our real estate agent. I would get some writing done. I would manage, through all these activities, to talk to my girls before bed every night.

The 200 or so kilometers separating me from them would be a kind of blessing, a time to settle into my new job, a time to find our new home and slowly begin to transplant our roots back here. It would be a time of reflection, of breathing life into an old Cristina that has been hanging quietly in a closet for some time.

But those 200 kilometers have my soul stretched taught over two provinces, over geographies I know so well that they have become a part of my self. I am pulled to a job I know is the best thing, at least financially and stability-wise, for my family. I am pulled to caring for my children in the most basic way, to holding them, to laughing with them, to waking with them before the earliest signs of morning. I am pulled to my home town, to the place that is green and lush, surrounded by water and bikepaths, to my family, both blood and acquired. I am pulled to my greatest love, to my Derek, who is unwavering in his support, who is fighting his own battles, who loves our girls as fiercely as I do.

I will travel those 200 kilometers tomorrow, relieving for a moment the tightness in my chest. I will hold my children and tell them I love them. I will kiss Derek, feel his beard against my cheek, and know I've arrived home.