Finding My Circle

Life is imperfect and families even more so. Being sad to see you depart is only an expression of our love for you. We know we're not losing you and we will see you again. It is just that we hold you so close in our hearts and you mean so much to us. You are such a wonderful young woman, so bright, so vivacious, so warm and loving. You are of great character and you have many 

wonderful talents. You are a true joy to be around. You leave a wake of happiness in your travels. While we are sad to see you go, we are likewise so very proud of you and excited for your future. You will do many great things and we will continue to share our moments of joy, triumph and even some sadness as a family. We will always be a family. We will always be here for you... wherever "here" is. No regrets, sweetie. Live life to the fullest... every day. I love you so very, very much and you will always be my little sweetpea. 

Love, Dad

~

A circle is a round figure whose circumference consists of points equidistant from the centre. Everyone knows what a circle is because it’s also a group of people with shared professions, interests, or acquaintances. Everyone knows what a circle is because we all spend our whole lives looking for the one that we best fit into. 

I’ve always found myself on the outer edge of every circle. I can never tell if it’s something I’m doing that causes me to always be outside and looking in, or if it’s simply because I haven’t found the right circle to be a part of yet. Either way, the outside has always been a little bit colder, which has only ever prompted me to try harder to get inside and warm up.

I had a very shy Asian friend named Katherine when growing up. I distinctly remember the time she and I went to a playground near her place in Country Hills with a red plastic bucket full of water balloons and the intention of wasting them all on each other. We were walking down the sidewalk, I was measuring the distance between our shadows, she was tugging at her stretched out sweater sleeves. That’s when she told me that she wanted to be a dancer. 

“Why a dancer?” I asked. She just shrugged and tucked her face behind her balled up fists, stretching her sweater sleeves tight over her knuckles. Somehow, I knew what she couldn’t say. She wanted to be a dancer because that’s what her mother did growing up, it’s what her younger sister did, too. She wanted to be a dancer because she was looking for her circle. About half a year later, Katherine started taking ballet classes with a bunch of quiet, competitive Asian girls. Each and every one of them compact and graceful. Each and every one of them friends. It felt as obvious as my long, uncoordinated limbs and Caucasian skin why I wouldn’t be able to fit in.

~

  I try not to get my hopes up each time something new happens to me, but when I met Sage, I think I forgot. My hopes, like a balloon in a child’s clumsy grip, got away from me and floated up high, popping on the way back down.

She had the lightest blue eyes, like icebergs floating in a cold sea, and a supple heart-shaped face. Each arm wore a sleeve of friendship bracelets which surely meant that she was well-loved. I had saved her pink stitched Hilroy exercise book, filled full of songs, from being forgotten underneath the spearmint coloured chair in a portable classroom. I had ignited what I thought was a fair trade—her songs for her friendship. And with a small and tender smile, she agreed. 

We spent the next four years as best friends, inventing a reality that suited us both and kept Sage occupied while her parents split up. Littlest Pet Shops on the school bus, makeshift meals at her mom’s place, and elbow kisses in class. Stories about a red-faced raving lunatic that roamed the halls of her dad’s apartment, rollerblade trips down to the Dalhousie Starbucks in the summertime, and singing loudly while sketching fashion designs during the winter. I was selective with who could enter our small circle, but I didn’t take into consideration that Sage, as desired as she was, was a part of several circles. She began to grow up too fast for me, finding fresh fiends and I struggled to find my place. I had spent so much of my time with all my eggs in one basket. 

The night that Sage hosted a sleepover at her place, she invited all these new girls from places unknown to me. With their silky shorts and long hair, they all talked about boys as they braided their hair and ate sugary snacks. I politely joined in where I could, but my long cotton leggings and short hair, and lips that had never been kissed, couldn’t quite conform. When nighttime fell, I couldn’t sleep, partially because of the thin blanket poorly protecting me from the cold floor and partially because I knew I didn’t belong. I packed up silently and called my mom to come get me. 

Back at home, in my own room, my eyes adjusted to the dark and quickly found a sticker that I put at the bottom of my closet door four years prior: Morgan + Sage written in swirly feminine handwriting and surrounded by a blocky heart.

~

We had next to nothing in common. Roxanne was short, boyish, mathematically gifted, and a tad lazy. She wore baggy jeans and always had her artificially dyed magenta hair tied back in messy ponytails. I was tall, talkative, filled with big words and even bigger stories, and always looking for my next adventure. Somehow, we complimented each other and filled in the gaps between us. We were each other’s circle. Or maybe we were just placeholders until something more suiting came around. Either way, our days were almost too predicable, I could expect the same routine day in and day out with Roxanne. However, neither of us prepared for my falling in love.

“I’m not worried about it, because I know that if ever there was a choice between him and me, you’d choose me,” Roxanne said confidently, walking a couple paces ahead of me. The sun beat down on us and I thought to myself if that was true or not. After all, this man and I were like carbon copies of each other, and, true to who I thought I was, I was eager to explore further. 

We rounded the corner and found ourselves at our usual hangout, the park near my place. Roxanne dumped her backpack at the edge of the gravel-filled park. We graduated a couple of weeks ago, but she still toted around her old school bag, while I had moved up to a purse.

“He seems really exciting and independent,” I said, slumping into the seat of a swing. I pumped my legs and felt a burn cross over my face as thoughts of this man popped into my head. Roxanne was quiet. It hadn’t dawned on me then, but I was on my way to the outside of yet another circle. Roxanne wanted things to stay put while I wanted them to flourish. 

~

“Well, no wonder you fell for him!” Shelley said, running her fingers through my hair as we both sat in her office. I loved her office, with its amber lighting, soft black leather chairs, and floor to ceiling mirrors and windows. I told my friend about the many stories of travel and adventures that this man and I often exchanged. They were purposely written in such a way to interchange one's self with the narrators. They were very personal that way.

“What should I do, Shelley? I want this. But I can’t stand that my moving to BC is causing me to drift out of my friends’ lives…” I wined, gripping at my crossed calves. It should’ve been an easy decision, and for the most part, it was, I mean, I dove headfirst into planning a going-away party and selling off furniture that we couldn’t bring with us. I was like a tea kettle boiling over with excitement for my exciting adventure. Was it too much for me to ask for the people in my life to be happy and accepting of my growth? Was this not what everyone wanted from me? Shelley stopped sliding her fingers through my hair and got up to sit in front of me. Her round eyes were like two dark wells, solid and structured but swimming with something shimmery deep down inside. 

“I think you need to follow what it is that you want for you, regardless of what that means for others. Sometimes people in our lives feel threatened by change because change oftentimes causes success. They will try to keep that change from happening, but if they’re your true friends, they will accept what you choose to do.” Wiser words had never rung truer to me before. 

It’s been a couple of years since then, I took the plunge and I attempted to carve out my best life in BC, not without difficulties along the way—especially with no safety net, but true to what my dad had written me a long time ago: No regrets, sweetie. Live life to the fullest... every day. I have had a place along the edges of many circles, and though I feel saddened that I’ve never had the chance to truly be on the inside of any of them, I have to remember that friendships often ebb and flow. I have to remember that the truest circle I’ll ever be a part of is the one with myself. Beside, if the words my dad wrote to me long ago are to be believed, I’m not such a bad circle to be on the inside of.