Tuesday, April 14, 2009

A letter to a town, as I sit staring at my suitcase

Dear Sackville,

I can't begin to thank you enough for the experience I've had this semester. I came here expecting to enjoy myself, but I certainly wasn't expecting to fall in love as hard and as fast as I did.

The first day I took the Acadien Bus in from the grossness that is Moncton in the winter (sorry), I was intimidated by the amount of SNOW and the amount of GREY nothingness in the New Brunswick landscape, and I was fairly convinced that I was going to see a moose jump out in the middle of the road and attack the bus. The nervousness was too daunting for me to feel particularly homesick, but the moment I stepped off that bus, I felt fine. Whether it was the smile of the international adviser who came to pick me up or the fact that the Campbell dons lent me bedding the moment they found out mine was being sent in the mail, I'm not sure...but something clicked. Actually, a lot of things clicked.

And it just continued to get better. Yeah, sure, there was the occasional longing for the familiarity of my own friends and my own school. But it's hard to feel lonely when there are potlucks, concerts, art gallery openings and 2-hour meal hall conversations to attend, all shared with some of the most genuine, open-minded and unique people on the planet.

I've tried to explain you to friends and family, but they don't quite get it. "Oh, sure. A small town in Canada," they say. Those who actually get Canadian geography understand what it means to be in the Maritimes. And yes, that's all true, but there's something you don't understand about this place until you come here. A friend told me that on my first day here, and I see now what he meant. I could stand at the end of Bridge Street or Wood Point and take pictures of the endless sky and landscape, or write a poem about the view from the top of King, or try and describe to someone the feeling one gets upon walking into Ducky's or smiling at a stranger on the street--but it's not the same. I don't mean to lapse into cliches, but there's something different in the air.

I could go on, but I just wanted to tap out a quick note in a last-ditch effort to explain this place via a blog--it can't be done, but God knows I've tried.

You give, and you don't ask to be loved--though charming, you are completely and totally without pretense. But you secretly know that, once acquainted, certain people won't be able to help falling for you. That's just how it is.

Yesterday, I saw it hail, snow, and get sunny in a repeated cycle...and your personality (if you could call it that) changed with each change in the weather...and every one was truly and remarkably beautiful.

So...thanks, Sackville.

Love always,


  1. I'm sure she loves you back, too. Say hi to the District for me! love.

  2. ...and this is when I start to cry.