Finding My Way Home

I’ve spent much of this year in hermit mode, enjoying my new home, one that was unexpected, as I had already moved twice in the past 4 years. After the big move from Ontario to l’Île d’Orléans, to a gorgeous 1867 home in Saint-Laurent, I thought I’d be staying there for good. I hosted all of my friends over a period of a year, and had forgotten that I’d applied to the school boards in the city before I left Ontario.

Everything happened so quickly. The market in Ontario was cooling down. I’d been keeping an eye on it for over a year. We were in the middle of a pandemic and I had taken an early retirement after 27 years of teaching. I was already searching for a change, knowing how restrictive and demanding the system was getting. I was tired too.

I absolutely love teaching but after several years of questioning where I was going with my life, and, as my girls were leaving the nest, I suppose I intuitively knew that something was coming. I just didn’t know exactly what. I sometimes imagined living in the South of France and running a bed and breakfast. Sometimes I imagined living in the city, like an artist. Sometimes I imagined running retreats or having an art studio.

The home in Plantagenet.

The thing is, I had always had a space to do art: a physical canvas set up, a room, and, as the girls left, more space became available in the house. I had the physical space, but not the mental and emotional capacity to use it properly. I was living through a lot of stress, so much so that I became very ill and landed my butt in the hospital for 10 days. When that happens, it makes me question everything.

So, when the market was cooling (and after the whole tree debacle, which I won’t go into here), I decided it was time to sell. I thought I’d look for a place in Vankleek Hill, a lovely community not far away, where I could live my “retirement”. The town has a vibrant arts community, little shops and a quaint Victorian vibe that I love. I know the people there, good people.

I put the house for sale.

It sold in a week.

Then, for a month I searched frantically for a home I could afford in VKH. Nothing. The last house I visited was a bungalow two doors down from the beer store in Hawkesbury.

I felt deflated. I was sad. Was I really going to sell my home on the river in Plantagenet, with its gorgeous gardens, only to find what?

Where?

In despair, I booked a weekend at Le Triangle d’Été on the island. Jasmine, my oldest, lived in Québec City, and I thought I might as well take a weekend and visit some places there. Why not?

We visited a bunch of places, little apartments with “cachet” on Saturday. By the evening, I was exhausted and sad. I couldn't see the leap. It was too much. Jasmine had rarely seen me so discouraged. She hopped online and found the house, only a few meters away. We took a walk to see it and immediately I knew. It looked like a cupcake.

Gorgeous handmade metal roof, in teardrop shapes.

High ceilings.

A four bedroom gorgeous home with a small backyard and a view of the St-Lawrence.

Within two months we moved in. A huge 18-wheeler truck arrived and practically blocked the traffic.

The people of the island were so welcoming! I immediately felt at home amongst them. After all, they spoke French, and the locals were farming folk, open and generous, similar to the towns from where I came in Prescott-Russell.

Over the next few months, I hired an electrician, a plumber, a handy man, and men to do work outside. They revamped and painted everything. The house shone again. I had a big garden party and invited the town to see the house, to talk about its history.

My neighbours were lovely and supportive. They watched over Buddy when I needed help. That winter, I had started teaching English to people on the island. I served them coffee and tea and cookies. I was making connections.

Then I got the call.

I knew I didn’t want to run an Airbnb. I knew I would need to make a living but I wasn’t sure what. I couldn’t see how relying on English and tutoring for the island folk would be sustainable over time. I tried supply teaching but I’ve never been one to enjoy that kind of thing. I like having my own class.

So, when the English board called and offered me a full time English position at St. Pat’s, I said yes. There I was, teaching in the evenings, and during the day, travelling to St. Pat’s teaching as I used to, full time English. It was a lot.

I realized I loved teaching but full time was intense. The correcting alone, in an annual system, was crazy. So, when I was offered a part time position teaching art at QHS, I accepted it. The following year, I drove back and forth the school. What with the dog, the bridge being built to the island, and traffic, it sometimes took over an hour one way to get to school. During down times, it’s about 30 min.

That winter was hard. I would leave school and I felt isolated on the island. Everything shuts down in winter and the reality of all that had happened in previous years was starting to hit me. I needed to grieve my hometown, some of the things that had happened.

I was feeling a deep sense of displacement, and of loss. I was also starting to have a reckoning of the person I was becoming. I was realizing too that I needed to revise my life and who I allowed access to it.

When one always is moving, it’s hard to see some things. That winter was a reckoning. I realized that I had recreated a sense of safety in an old role that was starting to dissolve.

Who was I outside of the roles I had lived? Ms. St. A. from Plantagenet, the teacher, the community member, the mom, the friend?

Who was I where noone knew me?

Who did I want to become?

I had never really lived in the city beyond when I was going to university. I was raised in the backwoods of Ontario, in a log cabin with no access to society. I had always dreamt of living a bohemian life in a place in the city.

And I realized that travelling back and forth for work was unsustainable over time.

I was 53.

I knew I wanted to continue teaching for at least 10 years. I knew I was not benefiting from the proximity to the city as travelling was taking everything out of me. I would leave school at 3:30, and wait nearby during breaks between classes. I was spending more time on the roads than in class some days.

And, in the winter, you don’t dawdle in the city after work. You drive home. Snowstorms. Cleaning the driveway. Maintaining a four bedroom home seemed like overkill. Paying for it too. The house was becoming a bigger responsibility than I needed.

So I took the leap, put the house up for sale, and moved to a beautiful Parisian-style apartment on Avenue des Laurentides, a few steps away from the school. It was a huge leap of faith. The house didn’t sell right away. The people who bought it were already committed to a lease on their apartment and the sale date went right to the following March.

Financially maintaining the house and the apartment for almost 10 months was really hard. However, it allowed us to make peace with the change, for me to go through my belongings and give over half of them to the girls. People were shocked. I was trying to believe that it was the right thing to do, but it was a leap of faith. And, though the apartment was lovely, there were some big caveats.

The main one was that I had a small balcony but no private yard. That was tough. I had also never lived in such close proximity to neighbours: noisy and inconsiderate below, lovely and accommodating above, and interesting but eclectic beside. I felt a bit boxed in but we were making the best of things.

Slowly I was adapting. I bought camping equipment and spent the first summer travelling all over the Maritimes, and last summer too, mainly in Newfoundland. I wrote a lot last summer, and came back thinking I’d be living in the apartment when the owner announced she was selling. Did I want to buy it? The immediate response was no.

I knew I would not buy there, but man. The timing. School was starting. I have a dog and a cat and a car.

Once again, I was deflated. Would I really have to move again?

Jeez. How much change can a woman manage?

I was worried I had moved close to school only to not be close anymore. I set Jasmine to the challenge. She immediately found the home I now live in, a beautiful century home with wood panelling, the main floor of an old mansion, on the gorgeous avenue des Braves, even closer to the school than before.

It has big wood windows, high ceilings, a small space for an atelier, a big old kitchen and a lovely dining room for entertaining. It even has a basement for storage, my own separate entrance, parking for two cars, but most especially, a private yard! There are trees, and a space for Buddy and the cat to hang out.

I immediately put fencing and a fire area with chairs and little tables, some twinkly lights, and voilà! Home!

So that’s why, over the last year, I have been a hermit. I love it so much here. My libraries feel like they fit right in. I have been living in solitude, going to school, walking along the beautiful avenues, a lovely pedestrian street called Père Marquette where kids roll by on their scooters, moms and dads push strollers, people walk their dogs, and cyclers do their thing.

I have not been idle though, despite everything.

This home has given me time and roots. I have created this website: The Leeça Space, as a home to gather my thoughts and my projects. I have crafted it carefully to reflect who I am now, and what I want to do. This field note is the first of many. I will be writing here, gathering stories and talking about my adventures.

In the summer, as I travel, I will be using the Field Notes as a way of journaling and gathering. I will post stories, images, and even audio bits the way I used to do with Facebook. For years, I have used Facebook in that way, but I was always aware that it was a stream. What I wrote for Fb was lost over time. Now, I am gathering the seeds so that I can revisit them in Winter to plant my garden which I call Land and Lives.

Land and Lives will be a collection of published stories about people I meet. Conversations gathered with portraits and voice from people all over Canada and beyond. Some of those conversations will become podcast episodes on The Leeça Podcast.

Others will be inspiration for mixed media art projects for a series I call the Lineage of Light. You can visit them as they progress here on this site. I will be publishing these notes from here and to Fb as well as Instagram and Substack. I have a home now, for my thoughts, my crazy ideas, and a physical home from where I can work.

Oh, and too? That job at QHS as an art teacher?

After a bumpy start, we now have a fully developed arts program and have just had our 4th Dare Art Exhibit, a multi-disciplinary student art exhibit I initiated with the Ville de Québec. I am very proud of what we have done so far for the school.

Next year, I will be working 50% as an arts teacher and will be expanding my relationships with venues and working on my other artistic projects. I still love teaching as much as ever, but have now fully embraced the artist in me.

Looking through pictures I can see the evolution of myself too. As I have shed belongings and transformed my outer physical spaces, I have fully embraced the era I am in now. It’s good. This summer, I want to take time to take it all in and to slowly unfold into my environment. Hermit mode over, for now.

Thank you universe, and, if you’ve been reading all this to the end, thank you. Thank you reader for following my crazy adventures. I’ll keep you posted.