As the summer drifted by, so did my thoughts of places and people in my past and present.
I took little notice of the world around me as I walked along the sidewalk of the quiet Ottawa suburb. On occasion I glanced around to ensure I was not about to walk into someone or bounce off a light stand.
The pathway was framed by manicured grass on either side; to the left, a quiet two lane street where few drivers could be found on this beautiful day. On my right, ran a line of fencing separating the back yards of the middle class detached homes from the rest of the world in this quiet suburban neighborhood.
I was feeling nostalgic, longing to visit my past and the friends I left behind after moving to Ottawa. It has been some time since the big move, but unpacking the boxes and plastic containers that were mixed in with the rest of the minutia that was my life, brought back a flood of memories. The trivial and seemingly unimportant items that one collects over the years, pictures, letters, certificates, all held some tie to a past life.
I was feeling nostalgic, longing to visit my past and the friends I left behind after moving to Ottawa. It has been some time since the big move, but unpacking the boxes and plastic containers that were mixed in with the rest of the minutia that was my life, brought back a flood of memories. The trivial and seemingly unimportant items that one collects over the years, pictures, letters, certificates, all held some tie to a past life.
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