When I was living out West, I would fly back to Nova Scotia to visit family every two years. It was and still is expensive to fly across the country here in Canada. A flight can be up to $1200 round trip. In 2003, I could have flown to the UK, hotel stays and meals for that price ticket. I did a little research when I was looking for flights that year. Don’t get me wrong I love to travel and going back home filled me with joy, it helps me rejuvenate the creative soul where I could people watch in airports, one of my favourite things to do to gain more character development. I also loved sitting in the waiting area with my laptop and writing. Hundreds of other people would be working on whatever they had going on and there was an understanding, we are writing, if you need help during an emergency, I’m there, but right not, I’m in my space. Or so I would think to myself as I was working on my first self-published memoir. My imagination runs wild at the best of times, but in an airport or café, watch out, the ‘what if’ question runs around collecting and creating new stories. I love the creative process!
It’s been a long two years with this pandemic. Between lockdowns I was grateful to see my parents and when the Atlantic bubble reopened in July, I have made a point to visit my parents at least once every two months. As I shared, this is more than I was able to when I lived out West. I would visit Nova Scotia every two or three years for a week at a time. Now I am able to drive for five hours in the same time zone and spend a few days with my family. I am grateful for this opportunity. It’s one of the reasons we moved back to Atlantic Canada, to be closer to family and to start our farm. The farm is growing every day, we are so happy and joyful for the opportunities being provided to us to grow the farm to provide fresh local food for the community.
I was recently in Nova Scotia to visit mum and dad over the Labour Day weekend. I left on Friday morning and returned on Sunday afternoon. During my last visit I intended to visit my Aunt E, but the timing was off, so I took a chance this trip and stopped to see if she was home at two o’clock on a Friday afternoon and she was home. My Aunt E is one of my mom’s sisters, she took care of me many times when I was younger. My mother would fly to visit my father when he was away at sea for months on end. The Navy use to fly wives out once during each time their spouses were out at sea. How things have changed over the past thirty years.
When I walked into her house the memoires of how much fun I had during our family gatherings rushed through my body. It seemed like every Sunday when I was a young girl, we were at Aunt E’s house where the family would get together for a pot luck dinner. The green gunk pistachio Jell-O salad is something that I avoided every time it was presented on the table. If you are interested send me an email for the recipe.
One memory that came clear to me was when I shared my creativity with my one of my cousins. It wasn’t planned, he was playing with his hot rod racing cars and I was playing on the piano. I remember hearing a song in my head and I just started to hit the piano keys hoping it sounded like what was rolling around in my head. Then I started to sing, more like singing a story, a play by play of the story, something about a boy fighting for his town and a girl he loved. It’s very vague, but I remember how time stood still and I was in the flow of creativity. My cousin was playing but he mentioned to his mother that I was singing and he liked what he heard. Do you think I could recall any of it the next time I sat down at the piano? Not one note. But the feeling of being in the creative flow was flowing in my veins. Creativity chose me at a young age and I’ve been working with creativity for a long time. I have strayed but always coming back and creativity is always there to say, ‘hey, let’s get to it.’ I sit down and it’s like no time has passed. It’s like coming home.
The rest of my visit with my parents was very relaxing and filled with touring around to my favourite places in the area. My father and I cooked a meal together which I cherish each time. We watched movies and relaxed. I maybe 47 but I am still their baby when I am in their presence. They try to let go but I understand. I hear stories from friends who parents treat them to same way. It’s their way of showing their love and that is okay with me. I knew I needed to fill my creative well again, I craved to be by the Ocean, I waded in the cool waters of the Atlantic Ocean and washed away the busy summer and connected to the earth.
I sit here at my writing desk sharing these experiences because we all need to know we are not alone. I am here to share stories and as I get myself back on track with my second memoir, I am reminded that I am the only one who can write my book, so it’s time to sit down and get to it.
Thank you for being here with me today, I wish you a great day.
Until Next Time, Keep on Writing…