BY: Ayesha Khan
Dear home of Humber River-Black Creek, lovingly known to me as HR-BC,
I have news to bring you that is good and yet pained. I come bearing a heart that is fluttering but strained.
I am leaving, for a while. Allow me to me explain.
My name is Ayesha, and you may or may not recognize me. For 4 years I worked for the Councillor here, and a year and a half for the MPP. I've sat on boards, volunteered, organized food drives, and held your kids at the Santa Set in the J&F Mall.
I lived at the corner of Driftwood and Finch in a high rise with my mom for years. And when I finally moved out, I was resolute. I wanted independence but I wanted it here.
So now I live off Jane and if you live around here you've probably seen me. Walking up and down. Picking flowers. Chatting up friendlies at the local mart. Dragging behind me my old lady cart.
I'm a child of immigrants and they both lived here. My daddy became a man on Eddystone. My momma decided to come back, even if she came back alone.
When I got involved in politics, it was an absolute fluke. I just offered to help, I didn't count on falling in love with you. But I knocked on all your doors, my pocket counting every step. And with all your quirks and characteristics, dear neighbourhood, you took my breath.
It's been a wonderful 5 years with you. I've loved every moment.
From the times we picked litter from the gutters, to planting trees in the park. And you never ceased to amaze me.
At the end of each day I always came home in a daze, so moved, so touched by the way we create little magic. In each passing hello. In every yapping dog on the corner, so accustomed to peace that a door knocker seems intrusion. In every wisp of barbecue smoke. In all the tomatoes laid out on the garage floor. In the gently closing eyes of every tomcat looking for a head scratch. Between grains of rice in the takeout. In the willowy wind brushing reeds along the hydro line. In every floor and every ceiling. Under every blade of grass and above every tower. I only knew love. I only saw love. I only sought love. And you gave it to me.
I've grown so much in your arms. So big, so tall, so strong. And though it pains me to my very core, it's time for me to move on.
I must go and learn new things, seek new territory, adapt. I must go and spread my wings, so they can bring me back.
How do I tell you everything I feel?
For a decade now, you have been my home. I know your every nook and cranny. I love your gullies and lanes, each surprise. If I have ever given you kindness, it was only to see myself through your eyes.
Now, I have a big girl job to do and for that, believe me, I'm excited too.
I will polish up a few fancy suits. Learn and discover. Stretch further beyond our horizons. Orient my world a little wider.
But know that I will be back, someday. I'm only switching jobs. I'm not moving away.
I was out with my colleague the other day. He brought me back an old magnet he found along the way.
It had been beaten and worn by the sun and the rain. Scratched up upon it was Anthony's face. Our old office address at Keele and Grandravine. A wind-warped memory of all that had been. Keep it, he said. As a souvenir. But could he have known?
That I remembered it was my hand that placed it there, for the seasons to find. That we were lucky someone left it there long enough to reach obsolescence. I tucked that little magnet into my pocket. So fervent a dream resting on my brow, I hoped and I hoped.
That that magnet had something to teach us. About when to hold on and when to let go. How to serve a purpose and deliver a message.
But most of all, how to return.
For Dorothy, too, went off to the land of Oz. And while she was there, she saw a great many things. She had adventures, consorted with strange characters, and supped from the wisdom of greats. But when all was said and done, all she wanted was to tap her heels together and whisper to the wind her impassioned plea:
There's no place like home.
There's no place like home.
There's no place like home.