Home is where the heart is
I just hadn't anticipated how emotionally difficult it would be to adjust to a life that was so different from the one I had led as a busy writer. I left behind a densely populated neighbourhood in Montreal that could hold the entire population of Fort Smith and settled on three acres on the edge of the bush, 12 kilometres from town.
Without any friends of my own, I felt physically isolated from civilization and emotionally cut off from family, friends and the tight support network I had enjoyed in Montreal. I also felt stripped of my own identity, like little more than Mike's appendage as people we met related to me as his partner rather than as my own person. "At least you matter," I told Mike one day. Twice, my commitment to building a new life was tested, as I contemplated taking a job in another northern community. But I stayed; our relationship grew stronger and now we fit together hand in glove.
Finding the groove of being a 'we'
Mike and I also had to learn to be a couple. Although he's white, my spouse was raised among the Inuit of the eastern Arctic where much communication is nonverbal. His quiet reserve was in stark contrast to my Jewish family's chatty and demonstrative style.
Pushing myself outside of my comfort zone, however, has rewarded me with an understanding of more subtle forms of expression. Over time I've learned to appreciate the way Mike puts the kettle on for tea and makes me toast in the morning. Or the way a box of Smarties or a Skor chocolate bar will appear on the kitchen table to remind me that he thinks of me even when we aren't together. Mike and I work together without discussing the delegation of tasks, yet everything gets done — we are a team.
Good things come to those who wait
He listens when I want to share, and respects the silence when I don't. "Do you know how many years I waited for you to show up?" I asked him one day, as I rested my head on his knee. Wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around me and kissed the top of my head.
I still wish some of my old friends lived down the road instead of being spread across Canada. But I'm slowly finding my place in the community. "You're the writer, aren't you?" strangers have asked. "How cool is that?" the mayor's wife once cooed about my profession. A trip to the grocery store after work turns into happy hour minus the drinks as I stop to chat with people I know. I have gained not only a partner in life, but also a man who has helped me finally find a place that feels like home.
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