I was at NAV Canada for 6 weeks. We had school for the standard 9 to 3:30 with an hour off for lunch. Our week-ends were free. There was a long winding path by the St. Lawrence River that took us to Tim Horton’s. Sometimes Sarah, Jamie and I would walk there and back, even though it was so hot. Sometimes we played volley-ball or made plans to cross the St. Lawrence to get contraband cigarettes from the Native reservation (which were so cheap compared to ours.) As I was a writer, our stories intensified drastically as the course deepened.
Dark, rolling CB’s crossed the sky with malicious intent. We stood by the shore of the river determined to cross and find those cheap cigarettes. ‘I don’t know how to swim’ I whispered in fear. ‘No problem,’ Isadore said. ‘Just hop on me and pretend I’m a raft and we’ll float across.’
With laughter and outlandish suggestions we made plans although it was easy enough in Cornwall to get those cigarettes.
All the other students had no trouble including an old lady in their activities. It was a great experience and a wonderful way to re-introduce myself back into society again.
But it was an intense course and required studying. After six weeks I left to go back to the tiny little town I lived in. Exchanging e-mails and promising to become Facebook friends it was a sad departure.