I sometimes fear of writing when I am far away from the chance of filing my thoughts.
But sometimes, I can’t help it, and the desire burns just as an itch in a hot summer afternoon
When that “sometimes” happens, I usually find a way to diverge the urge and mask the feeling;
As it is easier to ignore the “sometimes” than to honor its need for words and creation.
Recently I played the tourist guide role to my parents on their recent visit to Nova Scotia
While doing this, and unexpectedly, I re-discovered my town, my life, and my scars in a different way.
While I was not looking to do a trip down memory lane, my parent’s interest in my life caused just that;
While trying to bring back the moments of stories, people who are gone came back and took my hand.
These flashlights took me over to “Sam The Record Man” store on Barrington; now a destroyed building.
They took me to “C’est si bon” and its flamenco nights; now converted into a Yoga studio.
They got me back to cheap steak night at “Your father’s mustache” and the image of German enthusiasts.
They transported me back to “Pizza Corner” on cold winter slippery nights, and their smell of fried food.
It was like having a series of Déjà vu’s of the past; filled with emotion, with sense, and nostalgia.
Meeting points like the entrance to the Public Gardens, Park Lane or the Public Library came alive again,
Walking paths in old cemeteries, footprints of time in the old walk boards of the waterfront, all mine.
And mixed with reality of today, I greeted my past with cheerful stories, and some hidden tears.
Then I understood… This is my Halifax, my story, my life, and I think my parents got it too.
As I drove my parents to the airport, there was silence in the car for most of the way;
I could have assumed it was due to the ridiculously early time of their flight to get them back home,
But I think it was more because deep inside, they saw my roots here, and knew I was never coming back.
This is the first time I see myself this way, in my skin after the life I chose; rediscovered.
