I forget all others when I’m with her.
When I walk these streets of my water-locked city, I am reminded how that while I have other, temporary flirtations, she is my only lover, my mistress. When the heavens open and the rains come, I watch other dart away from her affections. Unworthy, shielding themselves. They shy out of the mists and drops for the sanctuary of mediocre and relative dryness. I allow myself to walk through the rain and get saturated. Each drop moistens my face with the city’s kisses, and reminds me of why I’m in love with her in the first place.
She runs curious, wet fingers through my hair as streams wind their way down my strands, making them heavy and wet. The streets of Granville, East Hastings, Broadway all become brighter and slick, turning dull asphalt into dazzling neon reflections, each set of headlights and tail lamps from passing cars adding the traffic choreography of the city’s heartbeat. When I leave a bar, a friend’s house, anywhere, to move through her streets again, she greets me with a wet kiss, and I turn my face up to meet it.
After our dance, my mascara runs, my lipstick smudged, and my skin wet. My one dance with the city, and her weather leaves me more marked than the most passionate embrace. Sometimes, before our dance begins, I like to just take her in, slowly appreciate all her qualities – the organic splendour of her mountains and seas, the indulgent cacophany of hidden remaining old architecture nestled in her vulgar concrete and glass towers. I can tell she knows when I’m looking, her children on the streets become more colourful, everything about her becomes somehow a little more magical.
Like all lovers, we’ve spent time apart. And when I was away, I loved other cities, but I always found myself dreaming of Vancouver, her children, and the familiar pulses, sounds, smells, and all the other nuances you only truly notice when your not there. I always came back, like a true boomerang love. I went to every corner of the globe and whenever we reunited, I felt stronger, as if a required part of my soul was absent during my travels.
And she’s always welcomed me home with her sky kisses.
I love you, Vancouver.
Little Miss Risk