Whether it’s happy, or broken.

I’m heading home this week. Which is always a strange feeling. I have so much love for Nova Scotia. The beauty of it, the people, the salty air, and the fact that time doesn’t exist there.

But I also have heartbreak.

Don’t get me wrong, returning home is amazing. I get to see my father, my brother, my other family members, and my old friends. But it also brings back intense memories for me. Memories of great loss in my life. The things nightmares are made of. The old feelings, the old places, the flashbacks. It’s always tough to face.

But I must.

I must go back. I must go to see the people I love – some of the only people who have ever been there for me. To go see those places that haunt me. To feel those feelings. To remember. Perhaps, it would be much easier sometimes to never go back. To just pretend that I am from Vancouver.

But every time I go, it grows on me.

You see, Nova Scotia is this wonderful place. This place that you could explore for weeks and still not even see half of. This place where strangers wave at you as you drive past, and cashiers actually strike up conversation with you. Not because they have to. But because it’s all they know. It’s just…the way.

And so the heartbreak is worth it. For my heart grows every time I leave Vancouver to visit Nova Scotia. And the memories become a little easier each time I get to see my dad smiling in person.