While in Nova Scotia I visited the street in Dartmouth where my grandparents used to live. At first I was reminiscent of Christmas’ past but then I found myself actually disturbed by the experience. Nothing has changed. The houses look the same, the pace is the same, and the people were the same. I popped in to say hello to the neighbours and they were exactly the same as if 20 years hadn’t passed and everyone was frozen in time bubble.<\/p>\n
I used to be bothered by this when I visited my grandparents. My grandmother would sit in the rocking chair and go back and forth as time accelerated by. She never noticed it – she just kept rocking, letting it pass. Every visit was the same year after year until my grandfather passed away. Then she left and a new set of people moved into the house.<\/p>\n
I used to find it comforting knowing that there were parts of the world that were somehow preserved. But now I find it frightening. Here is a place where time has moved forward but there is nothing to account for it. There are different players on the stage but the set is still the same.<\/p>\n
Perhaps this is why I left: the desire to not be in a place where time flies by so fast that you don’t notice it because nothing has changed. I could never live like that; I’m too restless. There is so much going on the world that needs to be embraced and seen.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"