Aunt Marybegan to slow on the highway, so I knew we were approaching ourexit to my small hometown community of Rocky Harbour. As we drovethrough the winding roads toward my aunt’s house, I gazed out thewindow at the landscape that rushed by. Nothing had changed. Not asingle thing. Every tree, every rock, still exactly as I rememberedit. As if time stood still while I was away and my arrivalkick-started a motion picture that now played out in front ofme.
As wepassed children riding bikes and endless lines of clothes drying inthe warm summer breeze, I became more certain in my decision to notcome back and settle. I wasn’t built for small-town life. Yet, I hadn’t trulysettled in Edmonton, either. I’d find my forever home someday, Iknew, deep down, that I was on the right path. I just had to keepfollowing it. I just wished there were a big flashing sign orsomething. This is it, this is yourlife!
“So,”Mary finally broke the silence, “how does it feel to behome?”
I was about toplaster on a fake smile but one look at her told me not to. Therewas something about my great aunt, the one family member who alwaystold it to me like it was, never missed a birthday or Christmascard, that made me comfortable around her.
“Truthfully?”
“Always,” she replied sternly, gripping the steering wheel aswe made a sharp turn.
“Itfeels weird. Like I shouldn’t be here.”
We then pulledinto her driveway, a long gravel stretch that ended with her houseand a steep drop to the ocean side.
“Dianna,m’dear. You have every right to be here as anyone. You’re your father’s only child,and it would be wrong for you notto be here. You understand me?”
I smiled andnodded.
“Now,let’s get inside and get some food on the table.”
“Okay,”I answered. “I’ll just get my bag.”
Mary scuttledinto the house while I grabbed my modest carry-on from the trunk.As I closed the hatch, the sweet smell of ocean whipped through myhair and across my face, leaving a light mist on my skin and Iinhaled deeply. I may not belong there, but I did belong to theocean. That much I knew for certain. As a kid, I’d run and playalong this gravel road where my family lived. Aunts, uncles,cousins, and us. But most of my time was spent by myself, down bythe water, gazing out to the horizon and building rafts to try andget there.
“Dianna!You comin’?” Aunt Mary called from the front porch, yanking me outof my daydream.
“Yeah,I’ll be right there.”
My chestheaved as I ached to leave the gorgeous view that stretched out asfar as the eye could see. There was nothing after this. The closestpiece of land was Quebec, across the St. Lawrence. To me, there wassomething comforting in an endless horizon. Go where you want, asfar as you can, with nothing to stop you. Unlike life on land,where there’s something to face every which way you turned.
***
Afterthe heaviest breakfast ever; a pile of fried bread dough drowned insyrup, I sat on her back porch with a cup of tea in hand. I smiledat the delicate piece of china, a dainty thing with hand-painted roses and agold rim. I pulled out my phone to check if John had replied to mytext but was disappointed to see he hadn’t. Mary was inside,fussing around the kitchen, clanking pots and pans as she cleanedup. Soon, she emerged and sidled up next me in her rockingchair.
“How youfeelin’, dear? Tired? Youwant to go lay down for a bit? I got the spare roomall done up for ya.”
I shook myhead. “No, thanks. As much as I’d love to fall into a coma afterthat meal, I should probably get some work done. The funeral’stomorrow, right? What time?”
She reachedover and pat my arm. “Now, don’t you go worryin’ about that stuff.I took care of it all. Your father made me swear. He had everythingplanned out, right down to the very last detail.”
I laughed.“Yeah, sounds like Dad. Such a stickler.”
“Thefuneral is at eleven, then everyone’s comin’ back here for lunch.”She gently rocked her chair and sipped her tea.
“Oh? Doyou need help to make food, then?” Surely, if I knew my aunt atall, there wouldn’t be a deli tray in sight. All homemade, nodoubt.
She grinnedand gave me a wink. “Nope. Had everything pre-made and in the deepfreeze since yesterday morning. Plus, I imagine people will bringstuff.”
“Well,now I feel useless.”
Her faceturned serious as her rocking came to a halt and she leanedforward. “I don’t think you understand the state over at yourfather’s house, Dianna. In his last few months, he went mad goingthrough your mother’s things, lookin’ for… something. I dunno.” Sheshook her head and took another sip of tea. “You’ll be busy overthere, for sure.”
Perfect. Ineeded something to keep me distracted from thoughts of thefuneral. Plus, it was a great way to avoid seeing the rest of mydistant family. I stood up and downed the last of my tea which wasmostly milk and sugar at that point.
“Do youhave a key? I can head over there now. I only have so much timehere, better make use of it, I guess.”
She gave me asympathetic look before standing from her own chair. “Come on,then. I’ll bring you over.”
The drive wasshort, just a few minutes down to the opposite end of the gravelroad. It was just how I remembered it; bumpy and narrow. But I wasshocked to see the state of my childhood home as it slowly cameinto view, like seeing a grandparent for the first time in tenyears and trying to hide your devastation over their drasticaging.
Thehouse was once a beautiful two-story, with a giant turret that provided awicked view of the ocean. On the first level, the turret housedpart of my mom’s office. On the second story, it was my old bedroom and I lovedit dearly. Mom
