Chapter Eight:
Happy Ever After:
1995 - ?
About settling in to Western Shore:
At the top of the stairs a long, narrow corridor led off to the right, with two small bedrooms on the right, a closet sized bedroom and a tiny bathroom on the left. Marion and I ripped out all the walls and turned two of the bedrooms into one large lounge. We took out the three windows on the side of the house facing the sea and replaced them with large glass doors, leading out onto a huge deck. We built the deck on two levels, each twelve feet by thirty six, connected by an outside staircase. We hired a contractor to add a dormer to the side facing the road, which gave us a large bathroom and a good sized bedroom.
Outside, the acre lot was essentially an industrial site. We told the last owner to take what time he needed to finish the projects in the boathouse, since we had no immediate plans for the building. He was pleased and very relieved, and must have passed the word around the village that we were ‘good guys’. Everybody was very nice to us, and neighbours arrived with gifts of food. We had been told by friends in Ottawa that Maritimers were ‘stand-offish’, and that it could be many years, if ever, before we were accepted into the community, but this was not so. We joined the Community Association and volunteered for several activities, always seeming to meet the same group of people willing to give their time to the community. We joined the Citizens Patrol, working with the local RCMP, and took the night shift, driving around the area in the early hours of the morning looking for signs of trouble, but never finding any.
Marion and I were not shy about meeting neighbours, and would go knocking on doors to introduce ourselves. Marion’s Dad visited along with others of the family and everyone had a splendid holiday. Her Dad had warned us against the move, and had misgivings about our leaving family and friends so far away, but shortly after he arrived he told Marion that he had been wrong and he understood why we had moved.
We arrived to find a single, small flowerbed at the side of the house, and one mature tree, which died the year after we moved in. Marion built flower beds and planted shrubs and trees, and within a few years we had colour and variety in the garden and birdsong at all times of the day. One visitor said that it was like owning our own park. We are never short of house-guests in summer and enjoy the contrast with our quiet winters. The climate is much milder than Ottawa and we are very grateful to be away from the forty degree summer temperatures, and winter mornings of waiting for the bus at 40 below.
A woman I worked with once told me that there are several centres of spiritual power in the world. It’s apparently something to do with ley lines and where they cross each other. Most of these centres are well known, and just where you’d expect to find them. One of them sits on top of the Himalayas, for example. One is apparently in Nova Scotia, and I sometimes think that it might be in my back yard. I’m comfortable here. I can no longer travel; the further I get from home, the more uneasy I feel, but once back home my anxiety floats away.
Growing old certainly has its downsides; in fact I’m not too sure that there are many upsides, but if I have to grow old, this is a very pleasant place to do it. What the future will bring, I don’t know, and perhaps it is better that way. One day at a time.
One day at a time.