All That and Then Some

ALICE - Learning to Fly

HAVE YOU EVER BEEN completely happy? I mean the kind of happiness that comes with accepting that not everything is perfect; that it will rain (or snow!) on your perfect tan suede moto-jacket; that your thirteen year old will have his tender heart broken by someone completely inappropriate; that your business will be saved from the brink of bankruptcy by a morally-suspect-but-trying-to-be-better corporate conglomerate; that your best friend's girlfriend will still eye you suspiciously even *after* you returned her stolen underwear and brought them back together; that you're occasionally going to get called #bigbutts lady on the street — at least until the internet moves on.

Somehow, in the midst of this particular kind of happiness, all of those imperfections only serve to amplify the sweetness of life and of living, like grains of sea salt on a chocolate caramel brownie.

I HAVE GIVEN BUDDY the best gift ever and I'm feeling pretty smug about it.

"Alice, this is the best gift ever," he confirms. My friend's face blurs in and out of focus as he tries to take a selfie that includes his glass of champagne and the wide leather seats of the Carvil private jet.

"Can you believe these seats? Like butter. And as wide as a loveseat! This seat is nicer than my whole house. It's nicer than YOUR whole house. I could live in this seat."

The camera swings wildly to the front of the cabin, then to the back, showing me little more than a furious blur of cream leather seats and a banquette set with trays of food.

"Everyone, it's Alice!" he shouts to his fellow passengers, who I assume to be Joss, Justine, and Eloise. Natalie was invited but decided she had too much work to do as a newly minted COO. I'm not going to let a handsome face get between me and my OKRs, she confided in standard Natalie fashion.

"Hi, Alice!" rings the chorus of voices. Justine's voice sings above the rest: "We miss you! You should meet us in Sicily!!"

"Nope," I shout down the line. "I told you — I have a lot of cheese and leftover puff pastry to eat this week. Buddy's your man. He's got the presentation down pat."

The camera angles back to his face and he whispers this time, "But not really, though. I hardly had a chance to look it over."

"Shhh. You'll be fine. You've got a whole transatlantic flight to look it over. Not that it matters. I've been on plenty of corporate retreats. Once everyone gets to the hotel, it'll be all sun and drinks on the deck. I'll bet you never even have to open that laptop. Just enjoy yourself, my friend. This trip is payback for all those times James got to go away on business."

"I could kiss you," he says, eyes misting up in deep contradiction with his mountain man physique.

"I wouldn't let you. You'd only go telling on yourself to James."

He wipes his cheek.

"You're mean," he says. "Oh, this champagne is going straight through me. Want to come to the washroom? I'll bet it's fancy. I'll bet they have Jo Malone handsoap! I'm stealing some if they do."

"Stop right there, mister. I do NOT want you to bring me into the toilet with you. Go. Have fun in Sicily! Think of me while you're sipping negronis with celebrities in the GranVenduti!"

"Okay, suit yourself. Byeeeee."

He hangs up, and my phone screen goes black. I have the sense of being left behind in plain, boring old Toronto in my plain, boring old house, in my plain, boring old life.

Holding my darkened phone, I spend a few moments considering what I've given up to be here: 5-star luxury; 10,000 thread count hotel sheets; the world's best Prosecco and most glorious sunset; Sicilian food... oh my god, there is no equivalent to a handmade fresh pasta luxuriating in oil, garlic and anchovy. Unless it's Sicilian wine. Because truly, that is something out of this—

"Okay, she's off the phone! Turn the music back up!" shouts Maeve excitedly. Jules flicks the Sonos speakers back on, dialling the volume up, and the room is set rattling again. They have been teaching Angel (who we are watching over for a couple of days while Buddy enjoys his trip of a lifetime) how to Floss, whatever that means. Angel is enthusiastically Twerking and Flossing all over the living room, leaving all the girls in absolute hysterics.

"Come on, Mum, dance with us!" Maeve laughs, putting her arms around Jules as if she needs the support. "You're the professional, after all."

I shake my head at them. I thoughtfully select an ample piece of cheese, balance it on a piece of homemade baguette and lean back into the couch with a satisfied smile.

It strikes me that I am still completely happy. In this moment. With this cheese. With these girls, in this house (worrying crack in the plaster notwithstanding) and in this city which, despite not being Sicily, is pretty wonderful too. But most of all, with the people I'm lucky enough to call my family, both real and chosen, and everything we've built together.

THE END