September

September is such a slow burn in Western Canada. Until it isn't. 

Among the greens, hints here and there of new colours, mostly yellow, and then all at once everything's yellow and those leaves flutter away like ash.  

Even though they are still fruiting, our strawberries are ignited too, showing off with so much (fleeting) beauty. 

Let's be honest:

Spotted in this restaurant (5 stars)

 

Things one should never outgrow:

gallivanting. 

The Spot

Niagara Falls, Ontario Canada
aka the Horseshoe Falls

This is the spot. 

My wife and I attended a wedding north of Toronto recently, so we used the opportunity to visit Niagara Falls. Since she had never been to the Falls, we did everything we could in an afternoon: rode the funicular down the escarpment to the river, took the boat tour (so much fun!), braved the thongs of tourists tasting maple syrup, bought the requisite t-shirts, and paid $15 for a small bag of chocolate almonds at a store I'm sure was named The Tourist Trap. It was a lovely day. But I was waiting to get to "the spot."

With my parents and older brothers, I visited Niagara Falls decades ago when I was 11(?) and snapped a photo in this spot. Although I don't recall much from that first visit, I do remember it was early on January 1, and thus a thoroughly different tourist experience. Essentially we were the only people there that morning. 

I remember how it felt, for me: powerful, beautiful, alive. Yet my Dad looked over the edge and said in his characteristically deep and slow voice, "it's just a bunch of dirty water falling off a cliff." My Dad was often reductive, but I suspect his particular disdain that morning was due to the fact that he had just spent a week with his older sister, a person I observed during that visit (from afar) with equal fascination and fear. She was scary. 

So what was so special about revisiting this spot? Reflecting on it now, I have no idea. Before we arrived, I guess I was hoping to feel something...special? There's an alchemy that sometimes occurs when revisiting childhood places, reinhabiting sentimental spaces, a kind of emotional time travel experience that can be especially meaningful and deepen those experiences. Right?  

Nope. Not this time. My tone may seem negative, but that's not my intention: just being honest.

I wanted this spot to say something, mean something, signify something (explain something). Despite my magical thinking, there were no voices from the past or explanations about long-ago hoped-for happiness, nor new connections or understandings. There were better feelings though: gratitude for this experience with my wife, gratitude for the time and resources to travel, gratitude for my life now. Being able to unapologetically marvel at life!

The Falls have changed and so have I. Erosion is inevitable and the Falls have been reshaping themselves for thousands of years. All progress is typically upstream. 

I think longing for "the spot" was about discovering something that never was. It's one of my romantic default bad habits: revisiting the past hoping to write a better narrative. Although I often continue searching there, happiness is not in the past; it's right now. Shakespeare may have said "what's past is prologue," but a happy epilogue makes for a great story too.