odd soul

You’ve been here for so long, even the memory of wanting escape brings a soft nostalgia.  The year you longed to get away from all this, now those were the days.

You came here thinking you’d give it a try, and stayed on from season to season for the work.  There was a system to it all and it made the months pass quickly.  Always another job to do.  Always one more season.  It felt like you could leave at any time, but you didn’t.  It didn’t feel like being caught.

After some years and the work isn’t so good anymore.  The people you knew have moved on, and it isn’t long before you spend more of your days reminiscing about the way things were, the boom years.  There’s sometimes an aftertaste to those memories, bitter and political.   Soon, the years spent reminiscing outnumber those golden years.  Now isn’t that absurd?

You will awake one morning and you will look around you and something will have changed.  Maybe there won’t be anyone left to share your secrets with, or at least no one who really appreciates them.  The nest you’ve built around you, it will continue to be here, empty or maybe with new tenants.  And that’s okay, it won’t need you.

Go, it will say, move on, thanks for your visit.  Come again sometime.

Maybe it takes an odd and determined soul, you think.  Awash in all this flotsam, it can be hard to listen to that voice.

Photos taken at North Pacific Cannery Historic Fishing Village, in Northwest BC, Canada.  Not so many decades ago, canneries peppered the coast and drove an intense thriving fish-based economy.  Intrigued by these periods of history – the gold rushes, the booms.  There’s something archetypal and beautiful and horrible and terrifically human about them.  They’ve shaped our consciousness, for good or for bad.  And much of the time, I’m honestly not sure which.

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