Two days of work left. I should be writing my article for "Salute" Magazine (who could have ever imagined me doing such a thing?), but instead I'm here, waiting for some grand metaphor to slap me wetly across the cheek (my metaphors usually have some stickiness to them).
Just moments ago I was zooming around the Internet (some people surf; I zoom), looking at images from the Kids in the Hall series. Because a wonderful thing has happened that has brought back the memoires of my university life.
You see, I found Coral on Facebook. The glorious, magical creature who is Coral. We were flatmates at UBC in 1996. It was the year that Alanis Morrisette's Jagged Little Pill came out. I remember she played it over and over. And over. And over.
Coral, Aron (This particular Aron is a girl) and I took karate lessons, and I can still see Coral rolling along to class in her rollerblades and white gi. She always made us late. Oh, and the one and only time we sang karaoke at the bar, Coral fell off the table and we were asked to leave. Ah, memories...
Then of course there was the ultimate northern road trip - Coral, her sister and I in Coral's hatchbak (no shocks), driving all the way from Prince George to Watson Lake and back in three days, sleeping in the car and deliriously watching out for wildlife as we sped and indeed soared (frost heaves + no shocks) over the Stewart-Cassiar and Alaska highways. Coral's adtidote to tiredness - Disney soundtracks. If it wasn't that it was Bon Jovi. Oh, the humanity. I still have a blury photo of Coral in her red t-shirt and black shorts, airborne as she leaps down the walkway at the hotsprings near Fort Nelson. "I'm dancing, I'm dancing!" she sings with every limb-waving surge. And then she stops dancing and she stands looking at the camera, eyes wide and her head tilted in innocent joy and curiosity.
That first year at UBC, the autumn after Jerry died and when my life had gone all squidgy, Coral was like a sea of light.
I am so happy. I welcome the chance to dig out my tiara and raise my glass of bubbly to "being jungle", to growing carrots in my armpit hair, and to finding my way through Vancouver by following the tall buildings. I'm telling you, a little bit of magic can go a long, long way. Acuna Matata, my dear.
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