Sunbird

Week 26, 2026: Whiskey Tango Foxtrot

Avatar and SNL wouldn’t exist without Canadians. As in, the highest-grossing movie of all time and one of North America’s most culturally-defining TV shows. How this could be true and Canada could still feel like an underdog is mystical. I guess it’s to do with the fact that James Cameron and Lorne Michaels had to leave Canada for these things to exist. Let’s not forget, though, that Colonel Sanders spent his final years here.

Here. I’m beginning to find a semblance of routine here.

Saturday mornings, I sit on the balcony and call people I love while my neighbour waters her plants. She never looks my way and I pretend not to look her way either. At lunchtime, I fold laundry and practise thinking about money without getting anxious. If I feel like spending money, I go into shops and bakeries. I’m in the palo santo shop for so long because the owner is on a call that feels like it’s about to end for fifteen minutes. She holds the phone to her chest and says sorry, they wanna interview me on a podcast and I tell her not to worry. There’s a tiny dog in a vest that says Service Dog. It tickles me that a dog I had just seen fall off a chair and run away in terror like this was something that had been done to him is donning such a vest. I wonder if he knows that his eyes are way too big for his face and that he’s wearing this vest. I don’t think he knows.

My mornings have been particularly nice because, if I get myself out of bed early enough, I have a couple hours of coffee and my kobo and sing-song company from american robins and northern cardinals. I get so excited about that part of my day. I try to read at other times and places but I get distracted. One of those places is the subway. I'm balancing reading with being mindful of the current stop when I catch an elderly woman looking at me and smiling. She’s so embarrassed when I catch her that she looks away and I feel so bad about noticing her. Sorry babe keep staring me down and thinking about how the kids are alright. Please please please please please.

I haven’t felt like this in three years, like I’m not indebted as soon as I wake up. That feeling when you’ve done all your errands and it feels like the day must be over but it’s only 3pm. I finish work and my time is mine and mine alone. My availability is my currency. I don’t hesitate when I book events and I can have sugar whenever I want. I walk everywhere and there’s so much life to write down but after the second shower and the fifth new person, I feel like I’m new too.

The evenings vary. Sets from Nate Bargatze and Norm Macdonald on my flatmate’s TV. Football on my local pub’s TV. I’m usually on my way home at this time but Egypt is playing Iran and it feels like history is being made. It smells damp and I feel safe. The regulars are watching New Zealand and Belgium play on the other screen. My family is watching too. It's really early for them. We celebrate the draw because sometimes a draw is a win.

Another kind of evening is for sharing picnic blankets and booths. Banh mi and iced oolong tea at the vista with someone I’d be surprised to see again. I’d never had either before but I'd now have both again. Banh mi is really nice for a sandwich that contains carrots.

A, who I may take to calling Carnival Girl, and I meet the next day in a cute diner. We sit in a booth eating pie. I can't say I've ever been on a date where this happened, she says after we casually find out that our fathers are connected on LinkedIn. What the fuck, I say minutes later because it really is absurd how small the world is. The ice-cream on my apple pie is fast-melting and the girl working the evening shift wants us to leave even though the place is empty and open for many more hours. We move to a cafe we’ve been to before. She’s running through the phonetic alphabet and I tell her I only know Whiskey Tango Foxtrot from that movie where Martin Freeman is really hot when he’s not talking.

She laughs when she asks what I’m doing for pride and I ask when that will be. It’s hard to explain but I try: I don’t really look for community because it often just makes me feel more alone. Her excitement makes me want to give it a shot anyway, to see what it’s like here at least. Some parts are really enjoyable. Like the drag show where the host kept saying perioooood. And the ice-cream truck. And the wander.

At the ice-cream truck, I ask for twist in a cup and she raises her eyebrows. I had been repeatedly telling her that I’m a really carefree eater but this is our third time running into a food I don’t like. I tell her I’ll make a list.

On my way home, I pull out my phone: