Stories from Sackville, Part I: Arriving in Sackville

After arriving at the train station in Sackville and chatting with a couple of friends who had come to meet others arriving by train, I made my way over to the house where I would be staying. As I was going down the street – ecstatic – I heard a whistling sound behind me; so I turned to see who it was, but there was no one there. After looking a little more closely, I saw the birds in the trees. You can nearly always hear them when you're outside in Sackville. This takes a little getting used to after a few months in DC.

Just before arriving at the house, I came across an older man shovelling snow. Not only did he greet me, but he also told me all about his time working as a janitor at Mount Allison, we talked about the friends I was staying with – he had just been to a little good-bye party at their place for one of them who is on an exchange in New Zealand this semester – and all sorts of other things for nearly a hour.

Oh Sackville!