It’s been strange, reconnecting with old friends on Facebook: for the most part, the friends I’ve reconnected with are still friends with the friends they had when I saw them more regularly. It’s an odd feeling, like coming back to the place you grew up after a long absence to discover that not much has changed when you were away. In the past 14 years, I’ve moved a lot — four different provinces. I’ve moved in and out of a lot of people’s lives: new friends I’m happy to meet, old friends I’m sad to have lost.

My five years in Shawville have been the longest stretch of time in one place since I moved out, and yet this place doesn’t seem like “home” to me. But, unlike so many friends from the Maritimes, there isn’t any “back home” waiting for me elsewhere; my family’s moved a lot too. My life does not stand still; I can’t go home again. I’d better get used to the ground moving beneath my feet, and find my groundedness in something other than place.