Update ~ Every ending is a new beginning

I have always thought of my mother’s house as a place of warmth, comfort and welcoming. Even on a rainy Sunday such as this, there is a tranquility settled in here. Scents of coffee through the house. Hockey game blaring on the TV. Rain or snow pouring down windows. Late nights watching activity in the trailer park. Listening to trains blowing through all hours of the night. Coffee and smoking in the morning. Dogs and cats awaiting their breakfast and some love.

I’ve been back and forth to home a few times now. I go out into the world, chase some dreams and when things don’t quite work out I drift on back.

Drifting back this time was a little different. A dream died with the leaving this time. Everything I thought I would be has changed, and I`m too sure how to feel about it. I thought the small town journalism job I scored at an oceanfront newsroom was the kick start to a career.

But small town journalism has never been my thing. It`s a lot of free advertising for events, school board meetings, networking and being a community figure of sorts. I guess my issue is I covered bigger stories in college than I ever did in any small town; hardcore crime like child porn and murder. To be de-elevated to seniors` teas and elementary school coverage was rather deflating.

I`ve always had big dreams of being a hardcore crime journalist slinking stealthily through the skyscrapers of Vancouver. My original dream when I started college was to be just like Don Cherry on Hockey Night in Canada, that is, until realizing broadcast really isn`t for me.

Vancouver 2011
Lavinia Thompson

Driving through Vancouver to go home one more time, watching the ocean and the skyscrapers and traffic jams, I think the journalism dream is over too. The more time I spend in and around media, the more I look at it and wonder why. Most times I disagree with what media covers anyways. Instead of issues that really matter, we`re fed celebrity gossip and political scandals and strange oddities. But I guess the humanitarian in me conflicts with all that.

So I have the summer of fruit picking out in orchards to think about what I`m going to do from here. I`m not sure what the dream or goal is from here. The only certain thing is writing my books. Beyond that, anything could go and I guess that`s the fun part of life. Free spirited, a little wild, restless and free; as of now I have two books to release this year and some goals to set. In the meantime, I am looking forward to getting back to my hippie roots a little. I feel like I have been missing that for a while.

Every ending is another beginning.