It started when we were coming into land. I could see Canada; the sea, the mountains, the rivers and the trees - a whole world of trees. I could see the place where my sister lived and loved, and had just given birth to my glorious niece. 
        It was actually happening. 
        I pressed my forehead against the airplane window. I could remember that first shaky bus trip. I'd pressed my forehead into the back of the seat to steady myself against the memory of pain ringing through my bum.  Every flashback, every adventure, every new memory; it had all been for this. I was stepping out. And I was trying really hard not to throw up on my new friend Bill.

Oh dear, the flashbacks have kicked in. Four days to go. Yesterday was pretty bad. I'd been packing all afternoon and then my house didn't feel like my house anymore. I was looking at my black angle poise lamp thinking that's my black anglepoise lamp, I'm home, but in my body just plain gut twisted terror.  
         I'm fearing the flashbacks again. Just like I did when I was a hermit. It's hard not to when they're as bad as that. I'm afraid of what's going to come up. But, and this is a big BUT, it's all in my head.  The danger isn't real. It's all in my head. I'm safe. I've written that on my hand. 

Why should I go to Canada when it feels like I'm about to die horribly?
Well... for lots of very good reasons. Most importantly, for my future freedom and loveliness.