Nomad

Dear Friends,

My unexpected decision to retire and leave Toronto, surprised everyone. It also raised many two-fold questions and concerns. 
Close friends and family members are worried whether I’ll have enough money to live on. My sons predict their “city girl” mom will not survive in a small town. A few are wondering whether Seasonal Affective Disorder had something to do with my resolution. I don’t really have a “court pleasing” explanation (as we say in Farsi). All I know and feel, is that it's time to go.

My father’s diplomatic career influenced my brother and me very differently. He still lives in the house he bought twenty-some years ago. I, on the other hand, am a rolling stone — fourteen moves, only in the past seventeen years! Change excites me! My name is Lili, and I am a nomad. 
I also know moves can be deceiving. I remember every time I watched my mother begin the laborious process of packing, I hoped in the new country there would be less parental fighting and more parenting. Alas, I never got my wish. All I ever ended up with, was yet another language to forget.

No, I haven't fallen prey to romantic adolescent notions. I know, most often a cigar is just a cigar, no hidden signs, opportunities or even real beginnings, just a change of postal code. However, the remote possibility of a new life, a better, more joyful life continues to haunt me, surpassing the certainty of improbability. With career out of the way, I can leave Toronto, to build a new life in Cobourg, a small town by Lake Ontario that has captured my attention for the past twenty-four years.