Home. A simple concept. Or it least it was until I moved to Saskatoon.
I’ve purposely resisted saying “back home”, choosing to say “back east” when referring to Halifax, or Nova Scotia, or really anywhere in the Maritimes since moving to Saskatchewan. I try to live a principle-based existence and one of the principles at the core of how I want to live is “home is where my feet are.” While that started out as mind over matter in the early days in Saskatoon, as the days turned to months, it became much less of a mindset and became a matter of the heart. And like all matters of the heart, it’s complicated.
My heart’s position on home got tested in June. Heading back to Nova Scotia for my sister’s wedding, it was the first time my wife and I had been back there together since we moved away in the spring of 2016. My heart at times ached. Like when I played the role of a magician and made my niece and nephew “disappear” to everyone at my wife’s brother’s house (the kids still don’t know how I pulled that one off). Or just hanging out with my mom and dad and catching up. An afternoon visit to play with the kids, a cup of tea with my mom or a pint and a hockey game with my dad were things I took for granted a couple of years ago. Now, they’re treasured, and at times like tonight in Saskatoon as I write this, missed.



