#83: Chill in My Mom's Backyard

This Friday, the keys to my childhood home will be handed over to complete strangers. Not only does this house hold all my childhood, adolescent, student, young adult and young professional memories, but it also acted as my safe haven during chemotherapy treatment.

Every three weeks from September 1st, 2010 until January 26th, 2011, my mom would bring me from my Toronto bedroom to my (new and improved, courtesy of my big sister and her husband) bedroom in Milton. There, a big, plush bed awaited me, with a mounted television, an infinite numbers of DVDs, and round-the-clock care courtesy of my little sister and my mom. That house was my escape during the darkest days of my treatment, including one stint where I couldn't leave my bed for a week.

Throughout July, I've spent as much of my free time as possible at my Mom's home in Milton. A few of those days were spent simply laying by the pool, listening to the familiar sounds, and absorbing all the memories and feelings that the environment around me inspired.

Despite this pointed effort, and the closing date looming this Friday, I still don't feel like I've said an adequate goodbye.

So, instead, I'll just wait to say hello to a new backyard to escape to. After all, "My Mom's Backyard" won't cease to exist, it will just be a little smaller, and on the other side of town.