tattoos.

The first one I ever got was a butterfly on my lower back when I was 16. I know, I know.... I'll justify myself by saying, first off, I was 16. Secondly, I was 16. 

I don't regret it though- it marks a point in my life where I felt I had made something of myself and I was really proud for getting there. So it starts way back...

When I was three months old, I was given up by my biological parents and adopted into a Canadian family. My sister (two years my elder) and I grew up calling Erwin & Maureen Leidl our Mom and Dad, and Tara & Christoper our sister and brother. 

I grew up like any other Canadian kid (apologies, this is a pretty big generalization). Mom and dad put me in dance class, took me to Kinsmen Park (I still have a nasty scar on my knee for being faster than my feet could handle), and taught me how to use my manners. Every Tuesday or so, my biological dad took my sister and I out for dinner. I'm not sure if I understood who he was- I don't remember much.

 I never heard from my biological mother all too often.

Thanks mom & dad for all the opportunities.

When I was five, give or take a few months, my real parents showed up and announced they were going to take us away.

I've heard hedgehogs are quite hostile to a new owner. I imagine myself like a hedgehog. No warnings- just up and away and given a new home and a new family. I was a pretty closed-up miserable kid.

Anyhow. It was about that time in my life when I was supposed to be going to school. My seven-year old sister set her alarm clock, woke me up, fed me breakfast if I was having some that day, and helped me get dressed (I guess I have her to thank for my incredible sense of style). My favourite outfits always included one pink sock and one purple sock.

Yes, even bad fashion. In fact, my socks still don't match.

School was only two blocks away, so we walked. 

Learnt to socialize, count, share. Lived with a babysitter- Joan. She's still my number one lady- even today. I met her grandson, Keaton, when I was six or so and became good friends. Even a good fifteen years later...

My best friend/escort at my graduation :)

(And he doesn't even know how important he is)

I never really saw my real parents at home- my mother moved out by the time I was ten, but it didn't make much of a difference. My sister and I turned out to be her employees, not her daughters. (She is an amazing women though, and someday when I grow up enough I'll be able to accept that.)

By the time I hit my middle years, I needed a good place. Home was empty. I ended up doing everything I could to avoid "home"- art club, track and field, volleyball, basketball, cross-country, yearbook, stage band... you name it. School was my haven. 

My sister found a different path to keep occupied. We sort of went in opposite directions and despite being super close, I don't know much about the in-between years. Trouble kept her occupied, but, hey, she turned out like a butterfly :)

When life gives you lemons... Keep them. Because, hey, free lemons!

The best days were Fridays though. On Fridays the blue chevy would always be parked in the same spot at the edge of the playground behind the "Rumper Bus" (which read the "Humper Bus"- even elementary kids have dirty minds). 

Dad (from my Canadian family) made the commute all the way to Biggar every weekend to pick my sister and I up and take us back home just for a couple days. 

Actually, my favourite tattoo comes from one of these moments driving home when I was six years old. It's one those memories that don't really have a reason to be remembered. 

It was summer. We pulled over in the blue chevy just inside the border of the city. My sister, my dad, and I hopped out and perused a garage sale across the street from where we were parked. On a shelf a little above my eyes (I guess it wasn't very tall) was an owl; tiny, carved out of wood, and about as tall as a quarter, if that. I fell totally, deeply, irreversibly in love. 

I left him though. Went back to the truck and buckled up. Before driving away, dad turned to me and chuckled, "Hey Jewy (he used to call me Jewy), you really liked that owl?"

I smiled, my cheeks probably took over my eyes like they always did when I smiled... For example:

I'm pretty sure that still happens...

He said "I'll tell you what, here's a nickel. You go ask the lady if you can have him."

My owl still sits on my windowsill, fourteen years later.

So back to tattoos.

Number 1. There are far better things ahead than we leave behind. If you crawl- learn to fly. Find your cocoon and surround yourself with whatever it is that gets you by. (Is it music? Writing? Fitness? Friends?). Challenge yourself and change yourself from where you are to where you want to be.

(WARNING: May contain nudity/sweatpants)

Number 2. "Fall seven times, stand up eight." It's a japanese proverb (I'm Chinese- just to set things straight). My sister and I got a shoulder tattoo together. Unexpected things will happen, you will make mistakes, you will hurt, you will suffer over and over again- and it's okay to be at rock-bottom. But you only stay there if you let yourself stay there. Seek guidance and take steps in the right direction; you will always be ok. 

Number 3. My favourite. I lost my dad a little over 8 months ago on October 5th. The amount of love, opportunity, and guidance he gave us two girls throughout our lives, even though we weren't his own, is forever imbedded in my being. It's not about the nickel he gave me- but about always doing everything he could to make me happy. He gave his whole heart to his family, and I will always carry a piece of it.

So moral of the story?

Have a good week- and find joy in the ordinary. xoxo

Poetry and Pictures (:

Soaking in the sun (:

The ocean left a salty residue on my skin as the sun warmed my legs and the hot sand stuck to my soles. I went to Parlee Beach in good company, and enjoyed warm weather, good food, and later on a fourth-times-the-charm camp fire. 

Camp fire smell? Aint nothin' a good shower can't fix.

At the beach, between the cool water and the hot sand I almost stepped on a blob of jelly. Fucking weird jellyfish. Cool, though- don't get me wrong.

I also met this cutie.

Took a gravol and passed out for twelve hours.

So today, I sat at the train station for three hours, got a lot of people-watching done during that time. Met a man of 57 who was travelling to visit the love of his life. They met 6 months ago, and it was love at first sight. Apparently she has glaucoma and has some vision problems, but she is scheduled for surgery soon. You could tell he loved her- he spoke about how great of a women she is and how they are going to get married this December. It will be the best birthday gift he could imagine.

Another older lady joined the party and lit up a smoke. She had four hours to wait. The old man snuck off and fetched a cart with wheels for the lady to carry her bags on. How sweet a scene. 

A younger girl, maybe my age or so, approached me and told me she needs to use the bathroom, then she took off leaving her fifteen million bags at my feet. Why she trusted me- I don't know. I'm some stranger sitting on a bench outside the train station. I know I wouldn't do that. I don't think I even replied before she walked away. I took care of her bags though... I don't know why I'm describing this to you.

Anyhow, the bus stop is an interesting place to meet people and watch them come and go, exchange hugs, and say their good-byes and hellos. 

Overcast and cool, what better to do than write?

En route to Halifax

Staring out the window, as the sky hangs low.

Heavy feelings in my heart still hurt from letting go.

You say I love you with your eyes, you catch the kiss I blow

And watch the rivers down my cheeks as they start to flow.

You drove away, tired of all the rain

Chasing the sun, just to keep you sane.

I said I love you through my lips but my words are strained-

So tied around your neck, my hearts on a chain.

But time unties bows, love will come and go.

We say our good-bye, until our next hello.

You finally hit the road, not knowing where it goes.

Hunting for happiness, someday you’ll know.

So travel on your own, your heart’s your home.

Chase your dreams; the ones you’ve always known.

You take your path, and you go alone

I’ll stay here, staring at my phone.

Hanging out at the train station

And maybe one day, you’ll find your way back

And I’ll wait here with my suitcase packed.

I’ll clear my tears, and I’ll patch these cracks

Along the streams in my heart, bruised blue and black.

I’m staring out the window, as the sky hangs low

Heavy feelings in my heart still hurt from letting go.

You said I love you with your touch, and I hope you know

I’ve carved your name on my heart, so don’t let me go.