Leaving Salt Spring Island

It never seemed real that I was actually leaving until this morning.  I had been at the center long enough that it had not necessarily become routine, but a rather fixed part of my life.  It was difficult to imagine having done anything different with my life previously or doing anything else tomorrow into the future.  Even saying goodbye to the staff yesterday seemed unreal.  I found the near tears, well wishes, and praise to be quite humorous because I still felt as if I was not going anywhere and that I would see everyone tomorrow, and as a result, the scene seemed a bit too dramatic.  I did not feel like I was fully able to appreciate everything and everyone as much as I should for the last time.  I felt like it should be something more, with a big step back and time to reflect, as I did when I left Poulacurra after the last seashore survey.

Instead, today, I appreciated the work as I have come to do, after the many times of reminding myself how different it could be; working at a worthless, dead-end job and living in a place that I hate.  It felt like just another day, and so, I spent part of my evening cleaning the kitchen, even after having packed my belongings only a few hours previously.  Even as I sat talking with my friend past midnight, as if we always engaged in conversation in the kitchen at that hour, it was far at the back of my mind that this would probably be the last time.  I did not get to spend much quality time with everyone else, but again, it did not feel like a last night.  I also knew that most would be accompanying me to the ferry in the morning, not to mention that we had time aplenty together to make up for it.

I am extremely thankful that I was able to extend my stay.  My work here did not feel complete at the end of August, not to mention, I was not mentally ready and had no plans.  But also, I had grown to better appreciate the island and the center and I was only beginning to connect with my peers.  I longed for that sense of community, which seemed to be lacking during the first half of my internship.  It did not feel like the right time to leave.  Looking back now, I believe that it was a good decision and that it was not simply an excuse to stay longer in my newly established comfort zone and push off my departure into the unknown.

Leaving did not begin to feel real until I began the round of hugs at the ferry terminal, and then, it finally started to sink in; the likelihood that I will never see these friends again, the knowledge that another family is dispersing, and the realization that I will greatly miss their personal quirks.  As the ferry set sail, my British Columbian adventure started to feel like a distant memory, difficult to determine if it had happened at all.  It seemed too outlandish to be true.