The Places We Choose

The other evening Steve and I were standing at our front window watching the sunset. Our house overlooks a farmer's field that slopes gently toward the West River—an ocean inlet, really—and every evening the sky puts on a different show. We don't own a television, so this has become our nightly entertainment.

As we sat and watched the beauty before us, I found myself thinking, we aren't here on vacation.

This is simply our life.

What if the goal wasn't to escape your life every few months, but to slowly build one you rarely wanted to escape from?

My first husband and I left Ottawa in our early twenties. We left good jobs and family for the great unknown. We talked about where we might move—funny enough, we actually contemplated Atlantic Canada—but eventually landed in Victoria, British Columbia. We left everything that was familiar and comfortable, packed the car to the roof, and drove west.

Victoria is a vacation destination for many people—the ocean, the mountains, nature woven so closely into such a beautiful little city.

Years later, when Steve and I built our home in Winlaw, we included a small vacation rental on our property. Guests would arrive wide-eyed, taking in the mountains, the forest, and the quiet. More than once someone looked at us and said, "You actually get to live here?"

It always made me smile. To them, it was an escape. To us, it had simply become ordinary. Their excitement reminded me that what had become ordinary to me was extraordinary to someone else.

Now we're in Prince Edward Island, and once again I've moved to a place that so many people save up all year to visit. Just like my other moves, I didn't have an elaborate master plan—only a very deliberate choice about environment. You know how people say you have to build a few houses before you finally build the one that feels just right?

Looking back, I can see there was a time and a season for each place, and each one taught me something different.

Looking back, I also realize I wasn't simply choosing places to live. I was choosing the backdrop for my everyday life.

If you think about it, we spend years figuring out careers, salaries, promotions, and retirement plans, yet very little time asking ourselves what we want our ordinary days to feel like. Where do we want to drink our morning coffee? What do we want to see when we look out the window? What sounds, sights, and activities do we want filling our evenings?

If we get those ordinary moments right, something interesting happens. Vacations become a delightful change of scenery and cultural emersion rather than an escape from the life waiting for us at home.

There's a difference between travelling to experience the world and travelling because you can't wait to leave your own life behind.

I remember travelling through Italy with friends for six weeks so we could really experience the country. By the final days of the trip, I realized I was ready to come home. That surprised me. I still loved travelling and the thrill of discovering new and interesting things, but I also loved the life that was waiting for me when I returned.

Travelling to far away places and moving from one location to another isn't the answer for everyone. I've known people who don’t enjoy travelling and / or have lived within a few miles of where they were born and have built rich, beautiful lives there. Geography wasn't the thing that made them content. They simply paid attention to creating a life that fit them.

If you find yourself at work or at home daydreaming about travelling to exciting destinations, it might be worth asking yourself why. Does it mean you have to move? Maybe. But maybe not. Maybe it means you simply need to reshape what your days look like. Maybe it's the job. Maybe it's the relationships. Maybe it's the paint colour on your walls.

Sometimes the change we long for is much smaller than a cross-country move. It might be fresh flowers on the kitchen table, a walk through a neighbourhood you've never explored, planting a tree, learning a new skill, or making time to watch a sunset instead of another episode on television... or maybe you can fit in both.

In Victoria there used to be an event called Be a Tourist in Your Own Town. I loved that idea. Maybe it's seeing the place where you live with fresh eyes. Visiting somewhere you've never been. Taking a different road home. Looking at your own community as though you've just arrived.

We can't always pick up and leave. Well... technically we can, but there are family ties, finances, careers, and responsibilities to consider—something Steve and I have just experienced ourselves. But we can choose to leave behind old thought patterns, outdated ideas, and habits that no longer serve us, making room for something new, fresh, and more aligned with who we are becoming.

I've come to believe that places quietly shape us. Not because they change who we are overnight, but because they influence the rhythm of our days.

The mountains and rivers invited one version of me.

The ocean and wide-open skies seem to be inviting another.

This chapter is still unfolding, and I know I need to guard against this place becoming "just ordinary." I hope I never stop watching the sunrise in the morning and the sunset in the evening. I hope I never tire of walking along the beach with sand between my toes and the deafening sound of the waves filling me with awe and wonder.

It takes attention and intention to remain present.

It is a challenge worth accepting.

Maybe home has less to do with an address than with paying attention.

And perhaps the greatest luxury isn't escaping our lives every now and then.

It's waking up each morning grateful to return to them.