Droplets

Now back in Toronto I oddly find myself lost in the midst of pure contentment. There is a sense of admiration and love for the humanity that surrounds me

This love for life and those who are living it around me is unleashed on the community at large. This is when I'm solo and at one with my own thoughts.

Seated with shopping bags on my lap, I rest my head on the window pane of the streetcar that's jostling the human cargo back and forth. The rain isn't letting up. I look up to watch the droplets running down the edge of the glass.

A small, elderly woman stands in the aisle; her wrinkled fingers grip the steel pole for stability. The woman beside me motions for this sweet little gran to take her seat. But she won't have it. Our eyes meet, she winks and smiles. Her eyes explain to me that she's strong enough to handle the unexpected lurches that this spastic driver is making. This is fun for her.

On this dreary day she is my inspiration. I want to hug her. She's just so cool and unshaken by the unsettling crush of frustrated commuters. I want to be just like her.

Saying goodbye.

The West Coast beckoned my presence for only two days. I have a soft spot for my home and family and am not very good at saying no.

I had to return for the memorial service of my great uncle. It wasn't suppose to be a time of mourning; he lived a great life. But as I sat in a front pew studying the beauty of the stained glass window before me, I couldn't hold back the tears that needed to flow.

He was the younger brother to my grandfather and was always so young at heart. Of course he was deafer than a doornail and his heart was bad but those things aren't what you really remember about someone. He was a wonderful husband, father and grandfather and his laughter and spirit will be missed.

I glanced across the aisle and there was my own grandfather, nodding off. He's in his mid eighties and was never sick a day in his life, until now. I can't bare to think about what my life will be like when he's gone.

I love my family so much and since I was a small girl always thought that it would always be the same. I still want to naively believe that we can continue taking vacations with one another and that we'll forever and always spend every Christmas together.

I can't continue taking those I love, so dearly, for granted.

While at home I had only two days to sort myself out. I enjoyed the family dinners and the rocket style lunch with a close friend.

With my carry-on luggage in tow my mom and I embraced to say our goodbyes. Her eyes welled up, "Mom we're supposed to be good at this by now." I said. But, in all honesty I don't think I'll ever be good at saying goodbye.

Content

When I opened up my blog account I realized that I've been sporadic. I have numerous entries that I just didn't finish.

I feel this way about my experience here. I wanted to do so much but there wasn't enough time. It's all happened so quickly. I had to brace myself for all that I was going to learn. Despite the slower pace of this town both professional and personal lessons were still chucked at me on a daily basis.

Even though packed luggage surrounded me as I got ready for my last day; the morning began like any other.

The woman that I refer to as my Lethbridge host mom made the coffee and we sat and chatted. We both have the gift of the gab and are very similar. We were taking our time because this would be our last chance, I had to say my goodbyes.

I set off for work. Like every other day for the past six weeks I immediately hopped on my stories for the day. Before long it was lunch and the station was taking me out. Destination of choice, The Cheesecake Cafe.

Our tech, reporting and directing staff cozied up at the table. We are all content in each others company. The time spent with everyone has been a wonderful experience.

Back at the station my news director was giddy with excitement when he asked me to, 'Sign the wall.' He decided that he would from now on have interns sign a wall in the basement, to mark their territory.

As he came up with the idea at lunch I was the first to sign, "It's been swell. Thanks for everything. Robyn Burns Ryerson '07."

I left the station a bit early to organize myself for my flight tonight. It was a feeling of accomplishment and pride with a twist of melancholy.

My jumper flight to Calgary has just arrived. I'll miss Lethbridge it offered up everything it had to offer and I took advantage of every wonderful moment.

She'll be comin' around the mountain...

Anywhere there are mountains and crisp fresh air I'll be able to call home.

Okay, I'm not loyal to geography, but, I'm loyal to nature. Canada has numerous Provincial Parks that are so easy to boast about.

For the past three years I've told all of the friends I've made in Toronto that British Columbia and the Rocky Mountains of Alberta are breath taking. Now, for once I've been able to witness first hand a land-locked Ontarian's breath being whisked away by the beauty of this place.

Okay I'm being overly dramatic; it was more like a shriek as we raced West along the Trans Canada Highway in our bare bones rental car.

I've been interning with a girl from my program. She's been working on sports, while I've focused everyday on the daily news.

We were once, what I'd call, professional friends. But, now we're something more. When you roadtrip with someone with your eyes glued to the highway ahead as you drive forward to your destination you hear and say so much. We both love to talk and I really enjoy everything she has to say.

We're here now, booked in at the HI Alpine Lodge in Banff, which is an amazing facility.

My friend is downstairs at this moment drinking rum and coke, on special at $2.75, learning more and more about a family of adorably serious German tourists who speak just enough English to understand our corky Canadian sense of humour.

This trip into the steadiness of the mountains is so good for me right now. My head has been all over the place lately. I'll spend the next few days trying to fix it on straight.

There's nothing better than being able to share the gifts of my part of this world with someone who can appreciate it.

... stay tuned for pics.

No morning after regret.

My body is my temple. But, sometimes that temple makes a road trip to Partytown.

Okay, that was the lamest thing I think I've ever written; but it's true. Work is slow today and my head is pounding and isn't allowing me to think very quickly. I thought it was a great idea to go out last night.

A friend from my days at middle school was celebrating her 21st and I had to be there. It's hard to keep a sober footing while surrounded by people, like the birthday girl, who would continually utter, "I'm not drunk enough yet!"

I needed to celebrate. I've been living like an old woman these past few weeks and I'm sick of it. I'm young and outgoing with a mission to be the best that I can be. I love people and I love to experience new things.

My fears of repeating past mistakes got in the way. When I find myself in new settings and surrounded by new, exciting people I tend to get a little silly.

I didn't want anyone to worry.

But, last night reaffirmed my ability to enjoy myself, with a drink in hand, while acting like a lady.

Unfortunately my stamina is not what it used to be. After a handful of drinks my body always announces in the morning that it officially hates me.

It's coming together.

The alarm on my cell phone sounds at 7:05 a.m. to the tune of Fuer Elise.

I roll out of bed with a different attitude than I had one month ago when my alarm would wake me every weekday morning. I pause for just a second on the edge of my bed; I wonder what today will be like.

By 8:05 a.m. I am dressed professionally with a clean slate of makeup on and my hair is straightened and just graces the tops of my shoulders. I throw my prepared lunch into my knapsack. Leaning down I tightly lace up my white and blue sneakers, function over fashion my friends (my heels are in the knapsack).

This is the part of the morning that I most look forward to, the walk to work. It's the 45 minutes I have to clear my head and smile at the strangers that might pass my way.

No one walks in this town. I mean they walk to their cars or down the street to the store. But they don’t really walk.

A Ford diesel truck might occasionally toot it's horn at me because I'm making such a spectacle of myself. My arms pump, reminding my every stride to keep moving fast. Some that know me well know that this is the pace my mother always keeps; you know, when your bum wiggles just ever so slightly.

In all honesty this is the only fast paced part of my day, despite working in a broadcast newsroom. Everything happens at a different speed here and I like it.

It's a break from the imagined power struggles of our school's newsroom. I know I don't want that anymore. I just want to connect with the people around me. Surrounding myself with the people and things that infuse my life with great contentment is all that I want.

Woman-to-Woman

Now 21, I consider myself a woman. Well, maybe a young woman. But still, the days of my carefree youth have drifted into being fond memories. Unless of course the latest Pixar film hits theatres; then I'm 11 all over again.

I started the day off with a bit of a hormonal stumble. I didn't believe in myself the way a woman should.

I woke up anxious and nervous about this new week at my internship. But with some strong, supportive words from a strong man on the other end of the phone I realized I was being ridiculous. Wiped those pity tears from under my eyes, collected my purse and marched on down to the studio for another brand new day.

The day picked up from the moment I sat my rear end down in the newsroom chair. The outlook on the day appeared to be positive and productive.

One of the tasks for the day was to interview a local woman about a recent announcement on the city's national status. I had interviewed this woman on my very first day (last Thursday) and had apologized for what I believed was a flustered interview.

With a much more relaxed tone on this day I was still nervous, but not that nervous. I greeted her with a smile in her office. Her tall frame matched my own. She came towards me with bright eyes and her arm extended, a firm handshake between us.

She followed me outside, where the cameraman had set up, and she asked how my first days had been. I answered her truthfully.

Before we made it to the camera in place for our interview she stopped me and looked me straight in the eye and complimented me on my style of reporting. She herself, years prior had been in the exact same shoes as I am today.

She said my questions were intelligent and that it was nice to meet a journalist who listens.

I guess she hadn't thought I was a frazzled, goof ball of a student after all.

My heart sung.

This is what all aspiring journalists want to hear. Especially ones who want to make it in the very superficial world of broadcast news.

It was a woman-to-woman moment and I couldn't be more grateful.