by Meagan Macquarrie

Created on: August 05, 2009

My home, Cape Breton

Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia. Known to some as quiet getaway, known to me as home. A surprising number of people, as I've experienced in my life away from home, aren't really sure where Nova Scotia is- never mind Cape Breton. Often I'll catch the perplexity in their eyes, and quickly follow it up with a remark like it's in Canada, or north of New Brunswick. The a-ha moment follows shortly thereafter, with inquisition consuming the person like the need to sneeze. Then I'll usually explain that Cape Breton Island is an island off of Nova Scotia, as it is to the north-east. This is usually where the audience raises their eyes in intrigue, and opens their hearts to the curiosity and unknown that is Cape Breton Island.

Covered in rolling green hills, beautiful mountains, and pristine waters, Cape Breton is a culture in it's own. Growing up in South West Margaree, it wasn't out of the ordinary to hear the sound of the fiddle, knee slapping, and whistles as people danced about in celebration. It's called step dancing. I never learned, and I will never understand why. As a child, these customs were boring, and silly. All affairs to be celebrated never went without a fiddler, a knee slapper, and a whistler. So silly, I used to think. So amazing. I guess it took taking the girl out of the country to appreciate its sheer beauty.

With Scottish roots, Cape Breton assumes it's independence from the world. In my eyes, there is nothing like Cape Breton Island. It's a long drive from Boston, but worth every minute. Crossing the border into Nova Scotia is like a drug. I itch the closer I get to South West Margaree. When I pull into the front of the house, it's as if nothing can bother me, nothing can find me. When I walk into the front door of my Grandmothers house on the hill, above the beautiful river, it's as if I've walked straight into bliss. This is how home is supposed to feel. Nothing will ever compare to the feeling I have of that house, on that hill, sitting above that river.

As a child we only had a few channels on the television. I didn't need it. My imagination was my television. I'd spend my carefree days running in the woods, or swimming in the river, or laying in the tall grass day dreaming. I didn't need anyone to entertain me, I didn't need anyone to entertain. I would play outside with myself and my imagination until, literally, the sun went down. Sometimes I would use my brother as a character in my play. Whatever the play was, be it house or school, he always obliged.

I remember the disappointment I would feel as dusk set in, and my mother's voice echoed for me to come in. As sad as I was walking in the door, my frown would promptly turn at the sight of my loving family.

When I wasn't alone or directing my little brother in my play, I was with my friends, all of which as imaginative and wholesome as me. We didn't have much, but we had it all. There wasn't easy access to shopping centers, and coffee shops, but we made do and we always had a great time. We had each other, and even though our lives have separated us, we still have each other.

I'll never forget the feeling I had when I left home. It was as if someone was taking a limb. How can I leave? How will I survive without my rolling green hills, beautiful mountains, and pristine waters? I still don't know how I've made it this long. I visit when I can, and every time I take a piece of home back with me. It's always in my heart. It's who I am and where I came from, and I wouldn't trade that for the world. Cape Breton Island will forever be, my home.

Learn more about this author, Meagan Macquarrie.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.