I’m still having trouble getting my head around what happened in my home province on Sunday.
That it happened at all in Nova Scotia is hard to believe. That it happened in a place which occupies a hazily-familiar spot in my childhood memories, and where some members of my extended family currently live, is surreal.
We used to have family reunions at my aunt and uncle’s place in Great Village, the next community down the road. We’ve driven that way countless times, as it used to be the primary way to get to Halifax. It’s a name as built into my kid brain as how my dad used to gleefully mispronounce it every time we drove through, as dads do.
My family all seem to be okay, but I imagine they — like the rest of the province — are in shock. Not that. Not there. Not now.
Cover photo from the CBC