Returning home from a long shoot is fraught with complication.
In many ways, you’re thrilled to be home. To see the people you’ve missed. To visit the places that are as familiar as body parts. To love and be loved in that way that can only be in the place that you’re from.
But nothing is quite the way you left it. In your apartment, everything is coated with a thin layer of indeterminable grime. Maybe there are some perishable items in your fridge that you didn’t have the foresight to remove prior to your departure, and even after their prompt disposal upon your return, the smell will linger on for days. Even sheets that were washed the day before you left seem dirty again, though no one’s slept in them for weeks. For every week that you’re way, it seems like there is at least a day of work that needs to be put into reclaiming the spaces you keep. I guess this is why people have house-sitters. No one wants to feel like a squatter in their own home. I feel a little like this now.
The night before we loaded up my ’96 Sierra and guided her back across a thousand kilometres of prairie, the Northern Lights were out in Missinipe. It wasn’t anything especially spectacular, the locals said. I can’t see how even the faintest band of electromagnetic colour drawn across the night sky could fail to be spectacular.
Home for just over a week and then I’ll be back “Up North.”
Until next time.
Dylan – Edmonton, AB