Transitions

So... we are moving.

And I don't mean from one part of downtown to another. I mean, from the bustling heart of the city to a quaint and quiet little suburb 45 minutes away.

And I don't mean from one high-rise to another, either. I'm talking about going from concierge services and multi-floor dwellings to a multi-floor, single-family townhouse with a double garage and carpeting (!!!).

I haven't lived in a single family home in two decades. So, like, more than half of my life has been in some sort of high-rise. I also haven't lived in a 'burb in almost as many years.

I feel a little disoriented.

Now, some would say that this is a good thing, that we are moving for Little L to be closer to school, and that we are going into a larger, less costly, and more upscale space in a close-knit community that really is lovely. Our new home is also very close to water, and to playgrounds, and to amenities and Starbucks (3 blocks). Really, it's everything that we could ask for, and more.

But I fear that I am becoming an old person, the kind that is almost afraid of change. I'm not quite at that stage where I am openly refusing to adapt, but I realize that I have developed quite the comfort zone in terms of living in an urban, busy, walking-culture environment, and to transition to a slightly more driving-oriented lifestyle is a huge change for me. I didn't even know just how big a change it would be until we found this new home and accepted the rental offer.

Up until now, my biggest worry was Little L: would she be willing to move? Would she like her new home? I know that kids are quite resilient little creatures, but my girl won't even accept having her left shoe taken off before her right. Her little Type A personality was definitely cause for worry. And yet, the moment she stepped into the new townhouse, she was enamoured with it. She kept climbing the stairs up and down, referring to the place as "my new home." She even claimed a bedroom before our tour was over! So yeah, I think she will be fine.

But here I am, a grown woman who has lived in three Canadian provinces and two continents, and who used to move every 1.5 years, worrying about my transition from the downtown core to the little village that is in fact only 10 minutes away from densely-populated, high-rise-infested, commercialized Richmond. What gives?!

So now, as I prepare for the move and all the ugliness that relocating entails, I find myself intentionally trying to savour "last moments" in the neighborhood. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, I think I'm grieving. And because I did not expect to mourn our move, I feel ill-prepared to deal with it emotionally.

Good-bye, beautiful parks and playgrounds where Little L spent many hours of the first three years of her life. Good-bye, tasty Italian cafe where our little family often goes on our lunch dates.
Good-bye, seawall walks to the beach and to Science World.
Good-bye, hundreds of tasty restaurants that we have been intending to try, but haven't had time for.
Good-bye, community centre with that cool shaded area and the red benches and colourful lights for Little L to play.
Good-bye, walking-distance-train station and all of your convenient stops.
Good-bye, gorgeous sunsets of False Creek.
Good-bye, delicious Sweet macaron Bake Shop and decadent Ganache cakes
Good-bye, VPL Central Library and your giant, welcoming children's section
Good-bye, Chapters and the American Girl section that entertains Little L for hours
Good-bye, quick and easy drive to the aquarium.
Good-bye, well-lit moonlight walks around the neighborhood

Good-bye Yaletown.