I fuckin miss the north. That pretty much sums it up.
I’ve been sitting on facebook trolling pictures that people have posted from Yellowknife. And I miss it. I more than miss it. It is this intense longing, this yearning to go back. I am not a prairie boy, nor am I a city boy. I belong up there. With the rocks and the trees and the rivers and the mosquitoes. Where the summer is hot, and the winters are cold. Where when you go outside in the middle of the winter and take a deep breath the cold bites your lungs. Where winter clothing is a neccesity, and by the end of winter -15 is t-shirt weather.
I miss fishing at 3 am and the sun is barely below the horizon.
I miss leaving the house at 8 and it being dark, and then going back home at 4 and it being dark already.
I miss the dark.
I miss walking across the lake in the dark.
I miss going sledding at the gravel pit and having a snowmachine pull us back up the hill.
I miss snowmobiling through town, and worrying everytime a road had to be crossed that it was wearing down the skis a little bit more.
I miss bundling up in a winter parka, and boots, and mittens, and ski pants, and not feeling out of place.
I miss having a need for a sleepingbag rated to -40.
I miss going out and playing in the snow, and building quinzies (sp?) and sleeping in them. I miss the quirkyness of the people.
I miss the single homeless guy, whose name escapes me, but everyone knew.
I’m homesick. And there’s nothing I can do about it.