A group of my girlfriends and I have a group chat, where we chat a lot. Most days: photos are shared, social outings are scheduled, laughs are had, and a wide variety of topics are discussed.
I read somewhere that women speak an average of 20,000 words a day, while men utter a mere 7,000. Seeing as typing isn’t included in the count, we are blowing those numbers out of the water!
Covid has certainly been the topic that has consumed a lot of the screen in recent months. What does home schooling look like? How are you doing with your kids? Do you have any meal ideas? How much wine did you drink this week? How much is your husband annoying you?
Probably the most talked about subject is home and the desire to get here.
Many of the girls are from Nova Scotia, one is from Newfoundland and a few others went to university here, so they understand the desire.
Once upon a moon, after university, we all migrated to Toronto in search of jobs, high heels and, of course, sexy men.
I found a job and high heels, but not a man – I migrated back.
Ally also made her way back.
Many of the other girls met their partners and have stayed in the Toronto area. But as we all know, East Coasters only live in other places, but they are always from the East Coast.
Sarah had a baby just weeks before Covid started. Louise started her life in lockdown.
Three of us turned 40 in May. Our plans for getaways were cancelled.
Heartbreakingly, Alexis lost her wonderful father on Canada Day. He lived on Prince Edward Island, and so they were unable to come home or have a service right away.
Kelly had a baby just a few weeks ago.
Everyone is literally itching to get home to see their families. To see each other.
This past weekend I made my way to beautiful Cape Breton. My Dad is from Margaree Forks, so we decided to rent a cottage at Whale Cove. One hundred dollars a night for a million-dollar view!
I had plans of touring around The Cabot Trail, followed by some good old-fashioned “drop-ins”.
As you would expect, we made a stop in Cheticamp for a coffee on our way to the trail, where we ran into my uncle Theodore. You’re not safe anywhere!
He has five children, and all but one of them live away from Cape Breton. Like everyone else he is longing to see his kids, and of course, his beautiful grandchildren.
I told him a poem that one of his daughters wrote had come to my mind in recent days.
When I lived in Toronto, Mom sent it to me and I recall longing for home when I read it.
I knew that I had saved it but couldn’t remember where. A quick search of my Yahoo mail . . . presto! There it was in an email from 2006.
I had already reread it a few times but decided to read it aloud to him that morning:
Where Am I?
I wave at the gas attendant, smile at the clerk
I saunter down the aisles of the store where I used to work
I wave to everyone . . . don't know them? So what!
I drive up the driveway, with one too many a rut.
I sleep like a baby, though the house is creaky and old
I've finally found a place where I can be loud, silly and bold
My laundry's done, accommodations and food are free!
Sounds of children laughing, doors slamming and good ol' CBC
Fresh berries on the counter, picked by patient aunts
Dad enters from the garden, bug bitten with soiled pants
An aroma of salt, sunscreen, barbecue and bread
Mom scurries around the kitchen, preparing another spread
Miles from Wal-Mart yet sometimes busier than one
Phones ringing, people planning and kids are on the run
A place where houses are left unlocked, keys are left in cars
Where the midnight sky is littered with thousands of beautiful stars
Dirt roads, no traffic lights, but the scenery is so fair!
It's a wonder I survived this long, since heart was pumping there
I barely got through it, and he was crying too. Maybe we will make it in the Inverness Oran for crying in the parking lot of L’Abri Café and Restaurant.
Covid has certainly created that longing for home for a lot of people.
Home is so much more than the house you live in or the city where you live your life.
Home is a place a where you feel comfortable.
Home is a place where you have memories.
Home is a place where people know who you are.
Home is a place where you can relax.
Home is a place where you can laugh.
Home is a place where you can see old friends.
Home is a place where you can tell funny stories.
Home is a place where you can be yourself.
Home is a place where you can drop in.
Home is a place where you see family.
Home is a sense of freedom.
Home is a place that makes you feel at ease.
The East Coast is a place where people feel all of that.
One thing Covid has certainly done is make people realize the importance of home and how much you crave how it makes you feel when you can’t be there.
With an insatiable love for human behaviour and circumstance, Emilie Chiasson absorbs the world around her, and turns her experiences into relatable stories. From her home town of Antigonish, N.S. to her travels around the world, she never fails to connect with the characters and perspectives that make life a bit more colourful. Read more at emiliechiasson.wordpress.com.
