Blurred Together

Growing up down in the Annapolis Valley, everyone has a kind of home port drawing them over the North Mountain to the shore. If you live in Annapolis Royal, you heed the call of Parker's Cove, and folks in Lawrencetown are often pulled to Port Lorne. Kingston residents come to Margaretsville, from Berwick to Harbourville, or Kentville to Hall's Harbour. So for me on the outskirts of Bridgetown, the undeniable draw was Hampton. Pretty straight shot up Hampton Mountain Road, then a short ways west before dropping down to the wharf. Even though it was pretty well burned in my mind from birth, I probably only came here twenty-five times till my late teens. Couple times a year maybe, always in summer, never once when the angry sea was bitter and crashing. But once I finally started driving at nearly nineteen, it became my most familiar haunt. When the days seemed dull and blurred together, this is the place I could count on to shake things up. Wild behavior in the waves, unexpected fog rising, some golden sunset sinking. Even clear and calm, just the blank expanse of open ocean was enough to make a shift. Meant a lot when I was young and broke, and every mile of gas money had its sting. It's still a good old friend even now.

June 19, 2025
Hampton, Nova Scotia

Year 18, Day 6430 of my daily journal.