Dear British Columbia,
As I sit here in Helen's office trying not to think about my 5 a.m. wake up call, or my impending cold, or clowns bearing weaponry* I can't help but think instead: I'm leaving you.
It won't be for long, and I won't really be that far away. You get my parents -- The Rev. and Al -- out of the deal and that's none too shabby. He may break into song in the middle of your hilarious travelling story and she might get after you for tracking dirt into the house after an intense swiffering, but they aren't all that bad. She knows some really awesome children's stories and sometimes licks her finger before turning the page (this is the epitome of talented storytelling, as I'm sure you know) and he certainly knows an awful lot about Arnold Schwarzenegger films.
I'll call, and I'll write, and maybe some day, when I'm older and wiser and finished film school with absolutely no idea about what I really want to do in life, I will come and see you and we can live together with much merriment and tons of chinese food made with those little cashews I like so much.
This really isn't goodbye as much as a "See you later" or a "Til' next time, America". After all, you have so many of the things I admire in a province: forests, an ocean, excellent shopping, and places named Squamish. Try saying it. Squamish. It sounds like something cuddly you'd whine for hours about in Walmart until your mom finally gave up and bought it for you, except that on the ride home you actually took a good look at it and realized it wasn't as awesome as you thought and so you left it in the backyard where it was destroyed during the next rainstorm and eventually wound up as a chew toy for your miniature schnauzer, Katie.
I've had a lot of fun here. Things I will need further of next visit: sunshine but also... sometimes ... fog, more Internet, Mel, Sarah E, Gencousin et al, Mr. Jax, hot pants OH NO WAIT I ALREADY HAVE THOSE, miraculous motion sickness pills, friendly neighbourhood mormons. Preferably in hot pants.
So, dear British Columbia, I say adieu. But don't worry. I am coming back at Christmas, where I'm sure you and I will learn a thing or two about celebrating the birth of Jesus with party hats and fresh ocean crab dip.
So long, and thanks for all the fish,
Sarah
*Really, when aren't people trying not to think about that.
It won't be for long, and I won't really be that far away. You get my parents -- The Rev. and Al -- out of the deal and that's none too shabby. He may break into song in the middle of your hilarious travelling story and she might get after you for tracking dirt into the house after an intense swiffering, but they aren't all that bad. She knows some really awesome children's stories and sometimes licks her finger before turning the page (this is the epitome of talented storytelling, as I'm sure you know) and he certainly knows an awful lot about Arnold Schwarzenegger films.
I'll call, and I'll write, and maybe some day, when I'm older and wiser and finished film school with absolutely no idea about what I really want to do in life, I will come and see you and we can live together with much merriment and tons of chinese food made with those little cashews I like so much.
This really isn't goodbye as much as a "See you later" or a "Til' next time, America". After all, you have so many of the things I admire in a province: forests, an ocean, excellent shopping, and places named Squamish. Try saying it. Squamish. It sounds like something cuddly you'd whine for hours about in Walmart until your mom finally gave up and bought it for you, except that on the ride home you actually took a good look at it and realized it wasn't as awesome as you thought and so you left it in the backyard where it was destroyed during the next rainstorm and eventually wound up as a chew toy for your miniature schnauzer, Katie.
I've had a lot of fun here. Things I will need further of next visit: sunshine but also... sometimes ... fog, more Internet, Mel, Sarah E, Gencousin et al, Mr. Jax, hot pants OH NO WAIT I ALREADY HAVE THOSE, miraculous motion sickness pills, friendly neighbourhood mormons. Preferably in hot pants.
So, dear British Columbia, I say adieu. But don't worry. I am coming back at Christmas, where I'm sure you and I will learn a thing or two about celebrating the birth of Jesus with party hats and fresh ocean crab dip.
So long, and thanks for all the fish,
Sarah
*Really, when aren't people trying not to think about that.
Labels: Open Letters
posted by sarah, the pirate at 11:13 PM
Hi. My name is
Sarah 
Hey Sarah, what are
ye listening to? 
BLOG CATEGORIES
MARVELLOUS ELSEWHERE!
AND ALSO, 
SHOPPING HOTNESS
FURTHER ELSEWHERE!
I'M READING:
I'M SEEING:
BOOK CLUB!:
7 Comments:
Dear Sarah,
Like Hurricane Katrina, you have left a swath of senselessly flattened grass and a confused, frightened citizenry in your wake. Accordingly, we are banning the little cashews and importing several squadrons of armed clowns.
So long, and please return our fish,
British Columbia
All right, British Columbia didn't come right out and say that. But I'm sure that's what it was thinking.
A good visit is when neither the visitor nor the visitee is left the same.
DUDE.
WHERE ARE YOU?!?
I'M WAITING!
sarah, i love you and your writing skills.
:D
So long, and thanks for all the fish,you just had to quote Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy didnt you?...lol
glad that your back, BC is a hard place to leave, i can't wait to move back someday...
and DUDE...wow...you missed...well i can't even say that, i don't remember the end of friday night LOL
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