It is 15 December, which means we are already into the 12 days of Christmas, depending on when you start flipping open the chocolate doors of your advent calendar. So far I have had four French hens and a couple of pipers piped.
Not a bad start especially if you factor in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation and Home Alone, two mediocre films that nonetheless possess the power to make a Saturday afternoon, if not exactly Christmas-y, then at least Christmas-ish.
In two days we should be en route to the Pacific Northwest, if Jack Frost’s icy breath hasn’t completely frozen out the airports, and they’ve managed to Zamboni the runways clear. After that it’ll be a slate chocked up with family visits, parlor games, food and beverage indulgences, hockey fights, and quality time.
Hopefully some entertainment, gift exchangement, and spiritual attainment will also be par for this Christmas Course.
I am looking forward to returning to Vancouver, the town of my most formative years with excitement and trepidation.
Some say you can never go back, others that the longer you’re gone, the harder it is to return, still others say you can always go home, no matter where you hang your hat. Maybe the more things change, the more they stay the same, or vice versa. It’ll become clear soon enough.
The first time I planned an exit from Vancouver – five years ago, to do an exchange in Amsterdam – I couldn’t imagine leaving; in fact, I struggled to wrap my mind around being away for a semester. So much will happen while I’m gone – parties, gigs, shows, opportunities…stuff.
Now after marking two and a half years since even setting foot in the City of Glass, I’m trying to wrap my head around being back for just a couple of weeks.
While it may be a weird experience in some ways, I’m expecting it to mostly be super-fucking rad. Look out home, I’m coming home.
