Prairie Roots

The tiny prairie town I call ‘home’ – even some forty years after leaving, is nestled in the expanse of rolling flat grassland in the southern part of Saskatchewan. The land and the sky are as much a part of my fibre as the people. To the untrained eye, there is nothing here. But for those of us who grew up with the whisper of wind in the grass and the meadowlark’s song, the vastness and simplicity strikes a nostalgic cord.

The people are part of that nostalgia. Faces, recognizable despite the passage of time, greet me as I walk down the street, even though names are stuck somewhere in the recesses of my mind, dusty from lack of use. At the small town cafe, men and women still gather for their daily ten o’clock ritual called ‘coffee row’ – men at one long table and women at another.

The community swimming pool, a welcome retreat on a hot prairie day, is just down the street from where my grandparents used to live when I was a child. The joyful cacophony of squeals and splashes and the ‘boing’ of the diving board bring back memories of my own youth when I spent every afternoon enjoying the oasis. (My mother moved into this house after I left home and later, my sister renovated it and lived there for several years. Unfortunately, it is no longer in the family.)

 

 

I walk past the school, a composite from Kindergarten to Grade 12. Once so large in my eyes, it now seems quite unassuming; a flat rectangle of brick that calls out to me with twelve years of memories. Trees line the streets, in places becoming a canopy overhead. Each one was planted and tended with loving care and I wonder how many more generations will be able to find shade underneath their leafy branches.

These are the streets that shaped me. The sounds that echo in my memory. The smells that conjure bygone days of anticipation for what life might bring. Coming back I cannot help but reflect. How I wished to get away from the monotony! The sameness. The insignificance of the place.

And now, years later, my heart reaches out. These are my roots. My home.

This is the first of a series on my “prairie roots”.  Some aspects of these posts came from my first blog “Expression Express” (Now defunct.) I hope you enjoy this look into what made me the person I am today. I plan to share more over the next few weeks.