Grounded

I like to think of myself as a pretty open book. Very few topics are off-limits, and, like any journalist, I love to get caught up in lines of questioning, learning and sharing details with new people. People are generally fascinating - and, I must confess, I do get a little bit of a kick out of surprising new friends, whether it's shocking them by revealing by love of hockey or my very rural roots, or sharing my high heels and short skirt lifestyle with my athletic circles.

My life is full of new, amazing people who, in some cases, never knew me as a married lady, and most of whom never knew my ex. These are the people who are surprised when they catch the sight of my childhood stuffed animal when I go to grab a bottle of wine out of my closet - not knowing that even at 25, it has made every single move, and most trips, with me throughout my life. They find it endearing. I find it rather embarrassing to admit. 

Such revelations, and explanations, sometimes make me miss those few people in my life who aren't taken by surprise by anything about me. The ones who know exactly how I will react in every situation, who know what items I will be drawn to in the shop - even anticipating my wardrobe choices - and who know, based on the nature and/or scarcity of my texts, tweets, posts and emails, to come find me and stop my hermiting habit.

These friends, while rare, are so essential when all of the rest of your world has come tumbling down around you.

They keep you grounded and make sure that you retain those parts of your past that make you who you are - because truly chucking out all those memories and possessions is not only impossible, but also ill advised. Because really, how interesting is a person with no past?

Since taking the leap to dramatically change my life and start over - losing possessions and friendships along the way - it's easy to feel disconnected. Who was that little blond girl with the pigtails, chasing after her brother on a mini motorcycle? That redhead in the hockey team jacket - her own - running around town in her parents' station wagon? That wide-eyed brunette journalism student who got lost, daily, on her first internship in Toronto? I was, and still am, all of those people, but sometimes it's easy to feel like I'm losing them.

The new people in my life get glimpses of those widely varied girls, but sometimes, I need a more solid link to my life before I moved halfway across the country and everything changed. Luckily, this week, my oldest and dearest friend is coming to visit, to remind me where I come from and that, while you can take the girl out of Nova Scotia, you can't take the Nova Scotia out of the girl.