Lost in Espanola. Day 1.

It’s more of an emotional exhaustion. That’s never necessarily a terrible thing.
Day one.
During one of the interviews I did today, I asked the little lady what she’s feeling right now in her tummy. She said excitement. I asked her why the craft she made represented her and teamwork and she stated that it was strong. I asked her why she thinks teamwork is important and she said because you don’t feel alone. And that she never wants to feel alone.
Day one.
As one fish in a sea of such a big story this weekend, you don’t get to absorb everything. You jump at the feast when it gets tossed in the fishbowl but sometimes the good stuff is caught by the pretty finned patience waiting in the corner for the leftovers.
At dinner we shared those missed moments.
Like when a young boy told one of the dignitaries that he didn’t know if he wanted to stay in highschool. And after a wholesome chat, for the next little while the dignitary introduced him with, “This is my friend and he has three more years of highschool.”
And when the team couldn’t find Wendel Clark to start his coaching session and he had snuck over to the bench on his own to help the little lads tie their skates.
And just Jaxon. Who had this ongoing double dope handshake with me all day everytime we crossed paths.
It’s just day one.
I also had some time just driving around the island with the crew, digesting their artistic visions while I breathed in ‘that’ smell of the great white north and snapped behind the scenes shots of the behind the scenes dream team. It’s just so simple up here.
Insert my famous ‘small town girl at heart with big city dreams’ standard bio line right now. It’s rare that both worlds cross but sometimes they wildly do.
Just soaking in ‘them moments’. They’re kinda sorta maybe really beautiful. -k

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Lost in Espanola.

When I pick up a pen to mark up a journal with teetering thoughts and dimly lit dreams, I always begin the same way…
Date.
Time.
Location.
How I feel.
And I get an itty bitty buzz when I can ink a new place of purging into my journals skin.
I’m in Espanola. Population 5000.
As I sit in my pinewood lined hotel room, I try to place the dejavu feeling into the correct feature film. Charlize Theron? Eva Mendes? I’m the leading lady wrapped in plaid with a wild mind fueling nerves into her delicate veins. And it’s so damn awesome but that awesome that you can’t explain unless you get me because you’ve felt the same thing, ya know? I briefly peaked out of the ground floor window into a deserted parking lot of puddles. The Right To Play truck comforted my itch with it’s hood of the car slogan; “Look after yourself. Look after one another.” And scene.
Why am I here? Because on a monday morning I opened my email with my famous ‘one eye open’ glare and I was asked if I’d be available for a voiceover. Okay. It was something new which always blinks the word challenge as I debate the task at hand staring at me across the room. Oh, I see you. I hadn’t read the script before I laid my blonde roast and mug of water on the table in front of the mic; my hair in a ponytail, hoodie, kicks, only pinked up lips hiding the Mondays. Monday morning, ya know? But the minute I watched the footage I was attached. I was vulnerable. It was simple. So was my next thought: I had to go.
I’m happy to be up north. The minute the highway shoulder turned from gravel to sand I promised myself that I would spend more time this summer where the blacktop ends. The hours flew on the road trip up as I counted the number of inuksuk made by hands who hold stories that I’ll never get to hear. There were deer. Five. And trees wrapped in dried up flowers covering what you assume to be unfortunate scenes. Those happened here near Espanola too. And that is why I wanted to be part of the unbelievable team from the MLSE Foundation and Right To Play Canada that are giving their every beat of energy to keeping those flowers alive. To keeping life growing, ya know?
I’m excited to meet the people that I watched in those videos. The people whose names I spoke without shaking their hands first. I’m excited to meet the vulnerable children. I’m excited to do intense arts and crafts and watch people forget about the unfortunate for a moment or remarkable mile. The people that surrounded me on the bus and in the meeting and at dinner are incredible. I’m lucky to be amidst their energy.
It’s go time.
-k

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Lost in Espanola
(Polish subtitles available)