The drive along the Georgian Bay, heading north, was absolutely beautiful! Cottage country! Every third vehicle was topped with a red canoe. I, all of a sudden, wanted a red canoe! The vehicles on the road represented vacations and family and the last week at the lake! The views were spectacular. From the beginning, to the left and right of me was farmland, sprawling colour…barns of every sort, tall corn, dairy cows…everything was pastoral and heart-warming; to the end, rugged coastlines, rock, lush trees showing early encounters with cool air. Autumn was evidenced. My window was rolled down to let it all in.
At Parry Sound, I first saw the Westward sign for the 400. I didn’t pull over when I cried…I just drove as I cried. I don’t know that that is a safe thing to do, but I thought it best not to pull over when everyone was moving along so fast. These tears were the sort that just fall down your cheeks in a stream. I hadn’t much of an idea where they came from. I didn’t think about them until later.
My thoughts, at the time, were about military moves and the east-west migration that my family found itself taking. Going west meant leaving Ontario behind.