shewasavisitor

Often, when I talk about Ottawa, I refer to it as “home”.
“At home in Ottawa…” I’ll say.
I haven’t lived in Ottawa for years, yet for some time, Ottawa lingered (if only legally) as my “permanent address”.

In the way that my mother remains my “in case of emergency” contact.

I’m nostalgic.

At my new home, there is no sailboat, no fox and geese on the frozen river (also no William Kurelek for that matter), no piano, no singing mothers, no basements or attics, no spinnakers, no yard.

My wide eyes of youth remain, though. They always have. Unaffected simplicity.