I always forget just how big the ocean is.  I’m protected in my little neighbourhood, and by the mountains surrounding the bay.  I can’t see the horizon lines anywhere.

Returning home after spending a week in the neverending prairies, I realized just how much I don’t see.  The view out of the plane window gave me butterflies.  It was like learning something new about a lover and falling for them all over again; someone whose body is so familiar that you could draw them from memory.  Every curve, every scar, so etched into your brain that you can remember it years later when you’ve started etching someone else’s curves and scars into your memory. 

I know my life here well, but perhaps it’s time to take a little walk down the street, around the corner and down a road I haven’t been on before.