Category: Feel Good Story

It’s a dark, warm morning. The alarm blares loudly at 3 am, shaking me out of a fitful sleep and summons me to begin the routine I require before making my way to the airport to start the first leg of the my trip home. I shower, shave and pack my meager backpack as best I can, seeing that there are a few few snack and drink items I had purchased at my arrival on Sunday that I won’t be able to bring onto the aircraft. Always loathe to waste food to money, I hesitate as I leave the items behind, cognizant that they wouldn’t‘ make it past the security check in. My last energy drink, which I cracked open as soon as the alarm went off, will be fully consumed before I check in. I step out into the morning’s latent heat, which surprises me a little, since the sun’s not up. But it’s already 18 degrees Celsius and the local forecast promises a hot day with minimal clouds. There should be no inherent issues with my initial flight out of New Brunswick. Let the shit show begin…

My travels of the previous day went by relatively easily. I travelled down to Bathurst to visit Sensei’s son Guillaume using the old highway, which takes a little over an hour to drive through, versus the highway which would have only taken forty minutes. But when visiting a Maritime province, part of the journey is enjoying as much of the ocean as one can. Hence, I drove along the coastal line. The houses, rolling grass hills and open ocean were sights to behold. I sang pleasantly along with the music in my car, content on the moment and trying not to dwell on the long day I would endure tomorrow. As I reached Bathurst, I wandered out to a small place called Middle River, which is where Guillaume resides. We enjoyed some good conversation, a few laughs and memories, and even discussed our recent 30-year high school reunion, which neither of us attended. Given that we chatted for almost two hours and it was already 3 o’clock in the afternoon, I got back on the road, fervently aware that I still had a couple of hours of tetanus time ahead of me.

I hammered down the highway in an attempt to make the best time to Moncton that I could. Sure, I wasn’t going anywhere once I got there and would mainly be hitting up the hotel and crashing. But I was very aware of the 40-minute detour I would encounter in Miramichi as a result of the Centennial bridge closure, which would require me to cut westward then come across a causeway bridge. This was the only other access through the area, so ALL traffic was diverted to this location. It was an absolute nightmare. I based the forty minutes delay on my arrival on Sunday, forgetting the detail that it was 9 pm when I drove through. This time, it was about 4:30 in the afternoon on a weekday, and many people were already commuting home from work. My the time I cleared the bridge and got back on the main highway, I had lost over an hour. Tired and frustrated, I stopped at gas station along the main drag and managed to find two slices of meat pizza and a bottle of soda for only $6. Unaware of when I had ever seen such a cheap meal option, I pounced. I got back on the road and ate my pizza in silence.

I got to Moncton relatively without incident and decided to get a leg up on the evening by filling the tinsel car’s gas tank now, as opposed to trying to find an open gas station at 3 in the morning. Besides an initial misunderstanding at the first gas station over requiring that I pay before I pump, which I totally understand having been a police officer, I got the tank filled and made my way to the hotel. Of, right! I should mention that the misunderstanding resulted in the police being called on me. But i cleared that up pretty damned quick. That’s a story for another post, since this one will be long enough without those details. I got into the room and laid out the clothing I would wear and organized the toiletries, which would also be left behind once I showered. At about 8:30 yesterday evening, I laid my head down for the last sleep in New Brunswick for the trip. Given the importance of being able to wake up alert and ready to move with the alarm, I opted out of my evening supplement, which usually encourages sleep, as well as the daily CBD gummy I usually take to help sleep through the vast kaleidoscope of PTSD nightmares I usually get.

Because I skipped all things that help with sleep, I only fell asleep around 10:45, which was much later than I ad planned. As a result, I barely got four hours of sleep when the alarm shook me back to consciousness. In recent years, I’ve always made a point of starting my morning off slowly, calmly, and at a relaxed pace. This has been an integral step towards maintaining my physical and mental wellbeing, and has served me well. Given the importance of not being late, this morning was different. I bolted out of bed, cracked a can of energy drink, slugged a few deep drinks and jumped into a hot shower. The warmth of the water beckoned me to return to the bed, curl back up and fly another day. But i had already been away from my family for too long and couldn’t miss this flight. Plus, given the way airlines tend to behave in recent years, I couldn’t risk losing the money on this ticket and being unable to reschedule. So, here I am.

there were only a few people waiting to check in and the security line was quite short. So, I got into the secure area where my gate was located quite quickly. Looking at all the time slots for everything, I was suddenly quite glad I came in as early as I did. Despite the fact my flight only departs at 6:05 on my itinerary, my boarding pass showed a boarding time of 4:50, with departure time at 5:30. If I had slept another hour, I might have encountered long lines that may have created more stress than my fractured, sleep-deprived mind could handle. I settled in to wait for boarding with a hot Tim Horton’s coffee. Although it never really seems to happen much these days, I was praying for a reasonably empty flight. This usually makes boarding quicker, departure sooner and better odds of making my connection in Toronto.

I’d like to say I have some interesting stories but if I’m being honest, it almost felt as though the airlines and airports were making up for all the delays and issues I’ve faced in the past several days. For Canada was definitely on top of its game, with boarding and processes running smoothly and on time, with no delays, flight rescheduling or otherwise. We even landed in Regina at 8:45 this morning instead of 9:05 like my itinerary indicated. My family was waiting in the arrivals lobby to greet me as I came down the runway. It was its to get home, be among familiar streets, enter my home and have some of my own food. I was up at 3 am New Brunswick time to make my flights. Conceptually, that’s midnight in Saskatchewan and I landed just before 9 am. So I was up at midnight and have been up ever since. Around 1 o’clock, I blacked out hard and slept for about an hour and a half. The depth of that nap was as such that I haven’t felt in a long time.

All in all, it wasn’t a pleasant trip. Hey, I did say “all in all.” I had some pleasant times, visiting with friends, enjoying the Maritime ambiance, etc. But the big lesson I learned this time around is that Northern New Brunswick isn’t home anymore. While it was good to see my parents, that connection is broken. I have Minimal reasons to ever go back, unless it’s to bury my parents. Eventually, and if you’ve left to live elsewhere, you really can’t go home. Although I can safely say that every visit carries an augury of emotion, this one was harder than most. And I can’t argue the fact that I feel I’m getting too old for the long distance travel, the delays, the rushing, the cost… everything. As beautiful as Northern New Brunswick may be in the summer, my original home town really is the place where time stands still. And I’ve gotten too spoiled with living in a city where I have immediate access to everything that’s needed. And maybe that’s on me. But there may underlying reasons why everyone usually leaves the area. And perhaps that’s on them. But I digress… I’ve made it out and made it back safely, got to see my parents, enjoyed time with dear friends and accomplished my goals. Perhaps that’s all I need to focus on. Food for thought…☯️

Well, here we are, folks! Departure day! The trip is far from over but today is the day that I check out of the hotel and start making my way south to return to Moncton, where I will catch my return flight to Saskatchewan tomorrow morning. I COULD have spent an additional day in Campbellton and visited my folks again. The issue is that my return flight departs at about 6 am tomorrow morning, which means I would have to start driving from Campbellton around 1 o’clock in the morning in order to make boarding. In all honesty, I’m getting too old for that shit. On my last trip here, I travelled to Moncton a day early and spent a night there, allowing me to drive 30 seconds up the road to the airport. It made for a much more restful departure and I didn’t risk smacking every moose in the Province by traveling in the dark. But I digress… I’m going to do the tourist thing in this post, considering it was my last day wandering around, yesterday.

My day yesterday once again started with breakfast with a friend, followed by a slow, relaxing drive down the coastline to Dalhousie. It’s one of those things where you don’t appreciate what you have until it’s gone. After all, I spent almost thirty years in this area and drove that road more times than I could possibly count. But during in youth, I never appreciate the immense beauty of the open bay, rolling Appalachian Mountains or the wonderful views scattered all about the area. It isn’t until now, as an adult, that I’m able to look at all these sights and ask myself how/why I ever left this place. I was quickly reminded, mind you. But the thought was still there. You see, living in a bigger city has spoiled me, after all fashion. If it’s 10 o’clock at night and I decide I need a pizza, I have tons of options. If someone in our household is sick and needs something, i know of at least three 24-hour pharmacies in my city. There are no such availabilities in my home town where time has literally stood still, and the sidewalks almost literally roll up around dinner time.

Once I reached Dalhousie, I got right down to business; visiting my folks. It’s been a difficult run this time around. My mother has become so tiny and diminutive, she’s almost the size of my 11-year son. She was semi-awake, but not responding to me in any meaningful way. She frowned and stared at me, almost as though she was wading through a very deep pool of memories, trying to determine who I was. Having learned my lesson on my last visit, I didn’t press her or try to explain that I was her son. I learned fairly quickly that it won’t help. I sat with her for a time, said my goodbyes and stepped out of her room. She didn’t even move enough to see me off or acknowledge my departure. I usually describe on these trips how strange it feels to come “home” with no home to come back to. After all, in the past, I would always go to my mother’s home. Always the steady rock of the family, she was always the one that arranged meals, gave me a place to sleep and took care of me when I visited. Now, I’m 100% a tourist in the very town I grew up in.

But this time, what I’ve realized that it’s far harder to recognize that the woman who was an absolute anvil, loud and full of life, who lifted me up and cradled me as a child, was now a tiny person the size of one of my own children and the person I knew is already forever gone. It’s a sobering thought that slaps one in the face with a dose of reality that life is short and fleeting. Things with my father weren’t much better. He’s now permanently on oxygen and doesn’t budge from his bed. He barely spoke to me, despite being awake. According to the staff, he’s also beginning to show signs of dementia, but I was able to converse a little with him. It felt like he was more focused on his television than on me. At one point, I even asked him if he wanted me to go so he could watch his show. All he did was grunt. I stepped out shortly after. The icing on the cake is the care home staff, who sit in their little alcove that covers all the entrances that one could use, who always seem to need to ask, “Leaving so soon?” Fuck off, dude. I don’t need your snide comments. Moving on.

I moved through my afternoon by walking around the Inch Arran beach area, snapping the photos you’re seeing in this post and reminiscing about all the good times I’ve had when I lived here. The passage of time doesn’t change. The sea and the mountains don’t change. At least not on a scale that one perceives within their lifetime. But the one consistent change is the lack of familiar faces. No more locals that I knew or could connect with. I had the opportunity to visit with some dear friends but ironically, all of them except for my Sensei reside outside the immediate area. The biggest and headgear lesson of all is gaining the realization that despite I kept labeling this trip as “coming home,” this I any longer my home. And no longer a place that holds any purpose in coming back to. Obviously, my folks are still here and there will continue to be intermittent visits until they’ve passed on. But the charm and value of this place no longer exists for me. I miss my actual home. And my family. It will be good to get back.

My evening concluded with a visit to my aunt and uncle, who made a wonderful spaghetti for supper. We shared great conversation and stories, my uncle showed me their new SUV and I even had the opportunity to go on a short drive on his side-by-side. I’ve never been on one before and it was quite fun. We wandered the woods, only for about fifteen minutes but he showed me all the functions of the machine and how fast it could go. I enjoyed it. Once the sun went down and it started getting dark, I respectfully bowed out and prepped to leave, especially since both of them were yawning intently and I knew they would both be up at dawn to go to work. Once back at my hotel room, I crashed unceremoniously and enjoyed the only day this week where I managed to sleep in past 7 am. Of course, I’ll have adjusted to this time zone just in time to fly back to Saskatchewan, which is 3 hours behind the time here. That should be entertaining.

I’ve often heard the expression “You can’t go home again.” I’ve never really understood that expression before because I’ve always believed that of course you can! It’s costly and takes time and effort, but one can totally go home. The real problem is that eventually, home isn’t home anymore. THAT’s the reality that people usually fail to understand. But I’ve learned that lesson this time around. When I leave New Brunswick tomorrow morning to head back to Saskatchewan, it will likely be for the last time except for coming back to bury my mother and father. A sad reality of life that can often be hard to swallow. But such is life. It will be good to be back with my family, and even go back to work. Hopefully, the place held up in my absence. I’m on my way now, stopping in to visit Sensei’s son and my “brother,” Guillaume, on the way. It will be good to see him. Tomorrow’s post will be the last Odyssey entry for this trip, but I’m sure I’ll have plenty to bitch about regarding the flights, travel in general and all the people I’ll have to deal with. Que sera… ☯️

Alright, I finally made it to the North Shore of New Brunswick. It was a hell of a day, and I’m going to start by telling you all about it. First and foremost, my departure flight from Regina was delayed. Go figure. The flight was reasonable. I watched a movie on my iPad and the folks sitting next me to slept the whole way through. Perfect. Once I landed in Toronto, and reactivated my phone, I got hit with a plethora of texts and emails from Air Canada. “Your flight has being delayed to 14:20.” Then, “You’re flight has been delayed to 14:50.” FML. Every little bate later I am on the tail end of the trip delays my ability to drive the three and a half hour drive from Moncton to Campbellton where I would staying during my stay. It was almost 4 o’clock by the time I finally boarded the last flight of the trip, uncertain if my car rental would still be waiting for me when I arrived in New Brunswick and contemplating my alternatives while I flew.

When I finally arrived in Moncton, I was like most of the people who walked off the plane; I was tired, exhausted, and not quite sweaty but yet, somehow still sweaty. The kind of condition that only comes from being someone with PTSD cramped in a confined space while surrounded by hundreds of people. All I wanted to do was get my rental vehicle and get the last leg of the trip out of the way. No such luck. My vehicle was delayed. First, it was only supposed to be “10 to 15 minutes.” Says them. I used the washroom. I took a walk. I spoke to some of the locals. Can’t back to the counter and was told, “We’re still waiting on some of the vehicles to be ‘brought up.’” Oooookay… I wasn’t certain what the fuck that means, but I’m not a big fan of waiting, especially after Enoch on the go since 3 am and it was already after 7 pm, meaning I wouldn’t reach my hotel room until after 11 pm. An old man like me usually tries to hit the sack by no later than 9 pm. Not tonight, dear reader. Not tonight.

I thought that once I had my rental vehicle, I could put all the delays behind me and just get to Campbellton. No such fuckin’ luck. I had planned on stopping in Miramichi for dollar store supplies and snacks for the hotel room. Turns out, the Centennial Bridge that crosses the Miramichi River was closed for construction. Maybe it was the delirium setting in from traveling all day, but I started to feel as though fate was conspiring against me to prevent me from reaching my destination. To add insult to injury, the detour required an additional 40 minutes of driving to get around to the next bridge. Traffic didn’t help. I shouldn’t need to tell any of you how messed up it can be, when you redirect hundreds of cars to a singular detour point. And we all know just how much I love waiting on others. Once I crossed the detour bridge and made my way back into town (or I guess they call it a “city,” now that they’ve amalgamated), I stopped at a local pharmacy chain for some travel supplies. I don’t like being civilly liable, so I won’t say which chain it was. But y’all are smart enough to figure it out.

I grabbed the basics. Soap, shampoo, antiperspirant, toothbrush and toothpaste. I grabbed some Skittles in case my blood sugars dropped and a large bag of Ruffles chips to chew me through any snacking cravings I get during in stay. What would have normally cost me about twenty dollars getting all of this stuff at a dollar store or Walmart, it cost me almost sixty dollars at this pahrmacy. Despite it being the same stuff, same size, just a different location. Great. Next, I needed food. The last I had eaten was a small tray of sushi rolls almost nine hours previous. I tried stopping at a Tim Hortons for a grilled cheese melt. I’ve been dying for one of those since they came back on the menu. But such chance. Doors were locked. I encountered the same issue with Burger King. What. In. The. Actual. Such. It’s Saturday night, folks! And two major fast food chains are closed and locked before 9 pm. I finally found success with a local McDonald’s and grabbed a coupe of sausage McMuffins.

I finally got on the road and reached the doors of my hotel around 11:30 pm. I was checked in by a very nice young man that I was pretty convinced was outside smoking up when I arrived. While it’s no longer illegal in Canada and I have no issues with someone doing it, doing it while on the job and making me wait at the very tail end of my journey when a bed is literally feet away and waiting for me was more than my recently-found calm could manage. My veneer cracked. Luckily, I made my way into my room and unceremoniously crashed after quickly downing my evening meds. The big thing being today’s post is that travel, even domestic travel, is no longer a guaranteed and safe means of making any destination in a planned manner. It didn’t matter that I had car and hotel reservations waiting; my flights were ridiculously delayed. Didn’t matter that I was tired and still had over three hours of driving to do, roads had me detoured. None of that really mattered to any extent. I surprised myself by maintaining my calm, not yelling at anyone and not losing my cool.

This morning, I still woke up around 7 am, which is fucked up considering that’s only 4 am back in Saskatchewan. You’d think that the time difference would have seen me sleeping in at least a little bit. I tried a different hotel than my previous stays because I wanted to change things up and it was a touch cheaper. Now, I know why. After grabbing a hot shower and getting my clothes unpacked of ride next few days, I discovered that the walls are quite thin. At least everyone was quiet during the overnight hours. Now, I’m off to see what delicious, gourmet breakfast I can find in my previous home environment. Then, I hope to kick things off by visiting my folks and possibly seeing Sensei this evening. The first day on the North Shore is already planned and mapped. We’ll see if at least one thing can go according to plan.

As I wrote in yesterday’s post, a lot of mixed feelings about being here. Memories and old landmarks are pulling me back to a couple of decades ago. Many things have changed, including a number of towns and villages along the main highway that weren’t there before, even a year ago when I was here last. Old businesses have made way to new ones, some buildings that have been there my entire life have been demolished or rebuilt. I’ve often heard that you can never go home again. Well, that’s only partially correct. You can go home; it just may not be the home you remember. I’m looking forward to seeing my parents. We’ll see how well THAT visit goes. But that’ll be an update for tomorrow’s post. ☯️