myfooteprints adventures on the road

coming home

CANADA | Wednesday, 6 August 2008 | Views [402]

driving through the small town of hr. breton, i'm overtaken by a wave of nostalgia. the town where i spent my childhood. i pass by my old bus stop and follow my old path to my old home, a tiny trailer in what used to be the town's trailer park. i drive by my old school. the houses of my old friends. a strange feeling being back in a town that has grown and changed without you around to witness it. i feel like a ghost drifting through a forgotten life.i'm back in hr. breton for one night only. andrea and i are planning to attend the final show of hr. breton's come home year, a concert by shanneganook at the local hockey arena.the stadium is packed, even well before most hr. bretoners typically head out to party. at 11:00 andrea and i walk into the arena to be greeted by a slew of familiar faces. most of people i haven't seen or even thought of in close to a decade. a lot of people mistake me for someone from the band. must be the beard. i find it interesting how, upon seeing a familiar face, a name jumps back into my head reflexively. most of the time. i am stumped more than a few times by faces that have changed so much since i last saw them that it takes a few minutes of peering into eyes to draw a recollection. i see old friends, siblings of old friends, old girlfriends and old teachers. a lot of people that i have known only fleetingly, comment at length on my travels and lifestyle. the transparency given to me by facebook. i am as familiar as people want me to be. and vice versa.the night goes on, as do the reunions. most of the people i run into i have little or nothing to say to. a quick, "how've you been?" and "it's been ages since i saw you." then silence followed by a swig of beer. connecting with a few others, though, is a potent stimulant for my nostalgia. memories of childhood, first kisses, and mischevious nights flood over me in time with the newfie music blaring from the stage.apparently it was the biggest event hr. breton has ever seen. over 1000 people added themselves to the crowd in the stadium. a stadium where i scored my first goal in minor hockey. where i once punched a bully who was picking on my friend at a general skate so hard that i tweaked my little finger. having left hr. breton again, i'm not sure when, if ever, i will return. my parents no longer live there and now that the come home year fever has died down, i can't see much of a desire to go back. to me, hr. breton may very well become that ghost town in my fading memories, ready to be brought to life at an instant by a face, a smell or a dream.