My decision to move to British Columbia was an unpopular one with a few people including me. It was some older, organic farmer friends that suggested I visit and “have a look around”. They surmised I'd "traveled all over America and seen the Rockies there." Why not see a rainforest? And the mountains where they meet the ocean? “I am Canadian” as the commercial goes, so why not see some of the best Canada had to offer? Farmer Ron came to BC after the Vietnam war because he said: “BC can heal any kind of trauma you have”. He met a woman, had kids, worked from farms to finance and a little of everything in between. Eventually, he'd met his long-term partner and they returned to Ontario, where I'd met them. She was BC born and bred, from the North. Together they knew more than I'd know if I lived 4 lifetimes and then 2 more. Moving out West to work on organic farms wasn't a popular choice for me. But it was a chance. The farmers said if I didn't have too much, they'd keep some things so I could travel. I went through everything. Not just items that I'd given away, donated or thrown out. Also, the guilt of leaving my family and the uncertainty of surviving without them. Why was I even doing this? What was I trying to prove? The unknown is scary. Change is difficult but ultimately necessary. Six years later, I'd make the same decision. I've been all over BC; seen and met amazing places and people and been challenged to grow. I've done things I never knew I could. And even visited Ontario. Back home there's a few more kids and pounds and a few fewer teeth, but life goes on. They're surviving and thriving and so am I. Just a few time zones and 4500 kms away.
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