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(Kill the midi!)
When June 22nd, 2001 finally rolled around, I was ready to go home. It was hard to leave my mother, but I was just too excited for what awaited me in the month ahead. Back to my place of birth; the town in which I had grown up quite happily. I just couldn't wait for that plane to land in Halifax. My heart had absolutely skipped a beat as the pilot announced the proximity to Nova Scotia's capital, at twelve o’clock - Midnight. After a day of flying, one could imagine how anxious I was to hop off, and see which members of my family would await me at the entry gate. I practically leaped down the escalators, tore my way through that very airport in which, two years ago, I tearfully left Cape Breton via its planes. It was time to see how my homeland survived, since my departure to B.C.
It felt to weird to be back in Halifax International again, where it all began a long time ago. My mother and I standing at that big, steel boarding gate, waiting for the flight that would take us away to a world unknown. There I stood, slightly older, with piles of baggage in my shaking arms. In that exact same gate that took me away two years ago, I was home. I was ready to see everyone again, to let my entire family know how much I changed. My heart ached for my mother, but as I made my way down that final flight of stairs... I saw them. My brother and father; oh, how they changed! I could have burst into tears, had I not been so excited! I cast my bags aside, and flung myself towards them. Hugging them for all they were worth.
Before I left Cape Breton for B.C, my brother used to be so small and thin. My father used to have so much weight on him, and was rather stocky. And at twenty after twelve in the morning, in Halifax International, I was hugging two completely different men. Nestled in my arms was the big, handsome individual who was my older brother, and the aged, graying man who represented my father. I couldn't even describe the feeling, as I left the airport with them. That horrid place that brought me so much sadness two years ago, yet, so much hope. I got into the car, in the front seat beside my brother. How my memories soared as he cranked that heavy metal like he always used to do. My poor father was still beside himself, trying to believe that this young woman who got off the plane was actually his British Columbian daughter. We started off for my uncle Jerry's house. I was to see him next, with my aunt Belinda. Two people who spoiled me rotten as a little girl. It had been nine years since I had seen them last. That night, it was going to change. Pulling into their driveway, I watched my aunt run out to greet us. Poor Belinda started crying, such a darling. I wondered when she would release me from that bear hug, as I was standing there barefoot on a concrete walkway laden with luggage. We went into the house, and there was my uncle Jerry. Over six feet tall, next in line to crush the guts out of me in a huge hug. Joey, an old friend of mine, was there to greet me too. Should have seen the poor guy. The last time we seen each other, I was fifteen and he was fourteen. It was indeed lovely to see him again, as well.
We all sat up late into the night, because I was dreadfully jet-lagged. It was one o’clock in the morning, but it was only nine o’clock in British Columbia; way before my bedtime. So we all ordered pizza, watched old movies that we all used to enjoy together, laughed and reminisced. Eventually, I went to sleep at about two o’clock. Slept until about one o’clock in the afternoon, later on that day. I must admit that I recovered from the jet lag awfully quick! So, later on in the day, we were preparing to make the onward stretch from Halifax to New Waterford - My hometown. It would be a five-hour drive, but I didn't care. I wanted to see all of my Nova Scotia. Joey bought a pet ferret on that day, so we all had amusement for the long ride back. After an emotional goodbye to Belinda and Jerry, we assured one another that we would meet again later on in the month. With that, I got into the car with my dad, brother and Joey... along with Louie the ferret. It was time to go home.
So, the drive began. It was wonderful, as I remained plastered to the window, watching each and every sight. It was a pleasant drive, as all of us were in such a jovial mood. As we hit the Canso Causeway a few hours later, my brother and I grew very hungry. So, we pulled over at a convenience store, diminished the poor place of it’s food stock and continued the ride. Stuffing our faces joyously. Poor dad was frightened. The moment we hit Cape Breton, I felt so happy. Today, I can easily recall how overjoyed I was, just by remembering that day. Sitting there eating my chips, we drove along and went across the Seal Island bridge. We entered Ben Eion two hours later, and I glued myself to the window again to see the beautiful Bras D'or Lakes, in which I swam often as a child. We passed my grandmother's bungalow, and I tried to ignore the "FOR SALE" sign in the driveway. I was too overcome with joy to acknowledge the fact. Now in familiar territory, I was content. Watching places like Ski Ben Eion, the picnic parks and Forest Haven pass by. How I loved seeing these places again!
Finally, we entered Sydney, Cape Breton's 'capital'. The Mayflower Mall and Tasty Treat… all of those old places I visited so often coming back to my vision and memories. Everything was all returning to me in such a wonderful rush. We drove onwards along the shore road, one of my favorite routes. The Atlantic Ocean was on the horizon for the entire drive. Next stop - My dad's house. Upon arrival, my father and I stepped out of the car. My brother left to drop Joey off, and was to return shortly after. It was now time to see Leigh Ann (My father's long-time girlfriend) and my little brother and sister. As I was about to walk into the house... there they were: two children sprinting through the field in the backyard like jubilant fawns. Brianna was calling my name; she wasn't calling me "Kinbuwee" anymore, but now it was "Kimberly."
I couldn't stop staring as Nolan approached. My little brother... he looked so much like myself when I was his age. It scared me to see him walking and attempting to talk in his broken English, when only two years ago he was barely crawling and managing only a few gurgles. It amazed me to see how these little babies I left behind, at the ages of three and one, had grown amazingly. How they were approaching me; talking to me! You could imagine how much I hugged them. They were too big for me to pick up, though. Go figure! This was only the beautiful beginning to one of the most joyous and heartbreaking summers in my young life.
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