I love how my nokomis calls me “my girl.” Everyone in Dad’s family calls me that. They call all the young girls that, come to think of it. I never thought about it, but it must be a cultural thing.
I’m not sure how much journaling I can do on this bus. I thought I would have lots more time to figure things out. I guess I’m getting off in Winnipeg. I can’t bear the thought of upsetting Nokomis any more.
I remember when I was about seven and Mom was marrying Randy. I couldn’t understand why Mom and Dad couldn’t just get married to each other again. Nokomis spent so much time telling me about love, and how love is meant to be kind, and not full of anger and mistrust.
Part of my problem is that I’m not sure how I feel about anything anymore. Most of the time, I’m happy. But something is definitely missing. I feel like I’m searching for something. But I don’t even know what it is I’m looking for. I guess I’m hoping I can just go somewhere and find the answer. Emerge a whole new something, like the person I saw just now on the bus. Maybe spending time with Nokomis and learning more about my Native side will help me with that.
I don’t know. I’m too tired to think this one through. The snoring behind me isn’t helping either.