I opened an email from my friend in England. In the early 1990’s, Alan and I were neighbors in Nova Scotia. He’d sent several links from Youtube.com. They led me to songs and videos of my home province.
I watched, listened, and cried. Pictures of the Cabot Trail, with its lush green mountains and the blue oceans, rolled across my screen. Peggy’s Cove, Halifax, and the red cliffs of the Bay of Fundy flashed before my blurred vision. Tears rolled down my cheeks. Nova Scotia and my Mum are 3300 miles away. I haven’t seen her or my home in many years. My life journey takes me further away from them.
I wrote my friend back. “Thanks for the videos, Alan. You made me cry.”
He replied, “I only lived there for a short time, but they made me cry too.”
I started to write him back. “Alan, I know what you mean. Nova Scotia was my home. I lived there for more than thirty years. It is dear to my heart, but I lived in Saint John, New Brunswick too. I was there for only a few years, but I feel a fondness for it as well. Later, I moved to Ohio …” I stopped typing. Memories of other places returned. Ohio – cornfields, friends and the co-workers are behind me. New Jersey – The Turnpike, the Hudson River, Manhattan to explore, the many jobs I worked, and people who came into my life.
They’re behind me too. I remember them all with fondness.
I began to type again. “Alan, you lived in Nova Scotia for a year, but I understand your fondness. It’s the way I feel about the all places I’ve lived. It’s easier to look back, remember, and enjoy the past. It’s like the mother’s apron we hid behind for safety.
There’s comfort there, but the future gives us a chance for more. It provides us with an opportunity to love new people and new places.
“It’s time for us to look forward and remember fondly.”
Michael T. Smith mtsmith@cableone.net