Autumn is our reminder, that even in all your splendor, you gotta let go to pass through the dark 

The light turned and began casting its long, lingering shadows. The once-summertime sunshine became golden rays that bounced off the vibrant red and yellow leaves. We basked in it as long as we could, still taking our neighborhood walks- quietly, thoughtfully, hand in hand- soaking up the nostalgia that had been painted for us into the scenery.

We kept packing, making what felt like a thousand trips to the thrift store, getting rid of anything and everything, selling as much as we could. Somewhat ironically, we had become the default Halloween party house. I say ironic because I had absolutely no interest (honestly, even a mild distaste) in Halloween before Audrey. But she ravished in it – all its American Dream splendor- the way neighbours went all out with decorations, the way people of all ages got to dress up and play. Her perspective, her childlike joy, gave me a change of heart. And yet another excuse to host, which I’ve always loved.

So, I made a massive fondue. People came dressed. And we all had a gas.

Then the rain came and washed the leaves away. And we Vancouverites were once again wrapped in the mist, the fog, and the consistent drizzle- some call it grey and gross, others call it cozy and comforting. As we were shedding the things that made our house a home, we were also searching online for a new place to land. 

Here’s the SparksNotes version of how that went:
Months of searching. Too many documents to count. $8,000 to $10,000 required for the first month alone (two months’ rent upfront, agency fees equivalent to one full month or more, plus the brutal exchange rate). A massive breakdown on my part, which led to the statement:

“There has to be another way”

And within an hour, a very kind French friend stepped in and offered her place. We booked an Airbnb for the first 10 days. We’d be with family for Christmas. And – voilà. We’d figure out the rest as we went along.

Crazy? Yep.
Lucky? Most definitely.
Having to put a lot of faith in… just faith? Hell freaking yeah.

We had every intention of spending a whole heck of a lot more time with friends before leaving. But the chaos of work, packing, and last-minute stress meant that most of our goodbyes were cut short.

Audrey filled most of her short goodbyes with friends, and insisted that their last hour be spent indulging in copious amounts of good, fresh delicious sushi. She had her place, where the owners would often flirt with her, and treat her to discounts since she had brought them so many other customers over the years. 

I did have the gift of driving my best gal, “C,” home from class whenever she came to help me teach. I’d rack up my Evo bill just sitting in the car, chatting with her in the dark outside her waterfront condo, rain rattatapping on the roof. Those long, lingering pauses between our “I’ll miss yous” pricked the heart as much as they did our eyes. I’d drive home wiping them away, reminding myself to breathe.

We did have one very memorable send-off: a party lovingly thrown by one of Audrey’s best friends, “Em,” and graciously hosted by another dear friend, “M.”-  where all our people showed up-dressed with little hints of each of us (striped shirts and berets for Audrey, hoop earrings for me). They brought bountiful plates of food that reminded them of us. They played games designed around questions about our relationship and each other individually.

Yeah… we have great friends.
And we know it. Deeply.

From last parties to long goodbyes – what’s your most memorable send-off?

We’d love to hear how you’ve said goodbye to a home, a place, or a chapter of your life. Share your stories of moving, farewells, and life transitions that left a mark.