The Hub

The weekend was spent in Truro, visiting my mother, my sister and brothers. If it weren’t for my familal ties I would never enter that town, only see it as the “Halifax is one hour away” highway marker. I would likely stop in at Mastadon Ridge before I would stop in at Truro.

vs

Anyway, my bus ride there was spent remembering how unbelievably long the short trip seems. I also thought of how strange it is sometimes to feel at home in two different places – Truro because my family lives there and so did I for 18 years and Halifax because most of my friends are here and it’s been 6 years now. … Yet, I don’t really feel at home in either place.

Also, I noticed (as I always do, I just always forget) that the reflection of the reflection of the bus numbers makes them appear correctly in my window. Look at the picture, you’ll know what I mean:

I am still suffering from a sinus infection. I took a picture of how shitty I felt the other day when I woke up.

I’ve been overly terrible lately. And I was in Truro, land of overweight feet shoved into crocs. I was insufferable. I am going to have to bake and mail cookies to my mom, just to relieve some of the assholishness from her memory.

“Dear Mom,

I’m sorry that you raised an asshole. I’ll try to be a better person. In the meantime, here are cookies. Enjoy them with your lactose free milk (by the way, why don’t you just switch to soy?)

Love,

Melanie”