A brief life update from the opposite end of the country: I’m now in Victoria.

After more than a decade in Thunder Bay — and the past several years especially focused on caregiving for my parents — it still feels surreal to wake up here and think, I live on Vancouver Island now.

When I left Thunder Bay, there was still snow on the ground.

A few days later, I was sitting on a deck in the Saanich peninsula in a light sweater, drinking coffee while tiny little lizards skittered past my chair like I’d somehow wandered into an entirely different country. They seem completely unbothered by humans and faintly prehistoric, which I appreciate in a neighbour.

Victoria itself feels vibrant in a way I’d almost forgotten cities could feel. Sidney is full of people strolling the waterfront in sunglasses. Downtown Victoria hums with buskers, cafés, flower baskets, and tourists who all appear to be collectively participating in some unspoken agreement to enjoy life outdoors whenever possible. And Chinatown, with its narrow passageways, little shops, hanging lanterns, and layers of history, feels like the sort of place that rewards wandering without a plan.

I’ve also (hopefully) found an apartment and, if all goes well, I’ll be moving in next month. Most of my belongings are still back in Thunder Bay, so at the moment my life feels oddly split between two provinces: one part transition, one part fresh start.

There’s still grief in all of this, of course. You don’t spend years caring for family, lose both parents, and simply “move on.” Life doesn’t work that way. But there’s something healing about being in a place where the air smells like saltwater and cedar instead of melting snowbanks.

For the first time in quite a while, I find myself looking outward instead of only backward.

And honestly?

Every now and then I still catch myself thinking: I can’t believe I live here.