I am sitting on the porch of my parents’ summerhouse somewhere in the Czech Republic gazing at the trees that turn yellow-brown right on the mountain right in front. These patches of auburn in the middle of greenery look like auburn clouds. I just finished drying the dishes – Bohemian porcelain, if you will. These are the kind of dishes that you find in antique stores. When my parents bought their summer house, the previous owners left everything, including a lot of beautiful Bohemian glass. It rained not long ago but now the atmosphere is calm, almost idyllic. The weather in this mountainous area is very fleeting, just like many things in life.
It stuns me to think that just a few weeks ago I was scrambling around the house that I still owned, packing the furniture, handling the movers, and getting all the paperwork done. It feels like a distant past yet it has barely been three weeks. I distinctly remember arriving at the airport with Sofia and Sherlock and two suitcases worth of our life. I remember the agent telling me that Sofia’s ticket is not valid. I remember the mental breakdown that I had just in front of her, letting the tears stream down my face for the first time, all the accumulated stress getting out. I remember holding the line with the airline, and then calling and calling and talking and hustling until I got everyone on the plane – two longest yet two shortest hours of my life before the flight. I remember walking to the bus in 30 degrees Montreal heat (because on that specific day they could not connect the trap) with Sofia and two backpacks hanging around me. Did I even eat or have water? I don’t know, everything was a blur, everything is a blur.
I also remember a touchdown in the Netherlands, a few quick days there before hopping in the car bound for the Czech Republic. Did this even happen to me? I don’t know, nothing seems certain. I can only rely on the certainty of the auburn clouds in front of me.
Just a few months ago, I was talking to my coach about the move and how I feel a lot of powers are shifting around the world. I could not explain it to her – I just said that the balance now seems fragile with all the events of the past few years. It feels like if there is one wrong move, one wrong transgression, and things as we know them might collapse. She said that she understands, she feels the same. Thinking about it more, sometimes the balance needs to be tipped. By us.
We live in carefully crafted bubbles where we create our own worlds, where we operate from day to day. But the stability of these bubbles is fragile, it is an illusion. Sometimes, we crash these bubbles, dissolve them to reform, and create new ones. The time will let us know the consequences. For now, I am finding refuge in the fleeting auburn clouds in front of me.