So, here I am in rural Nova Scotia – all settled in. And I’m loving it! I keep breaking out into this goofy grin, every time I see something pretty (which is constantly), every time I notice the quiet and the calm and the clean air. I keep wondering, why didn’t I move home YEARS ago?
Well, there were lots of reasons. But, then, one by one, those reasons disappeared or were invalidated. And all the reasons for moving home became more compelling.
And there was a turning point: January 27, 2010. The day that J.D. Salinger died. (I should disclose here that I am a huge fan of Salinger’s style. Franny & Zooey is probably my favourite book in the entire world). On the day Salinger died, I ran a gamut of emotions: disappointment, loss, hope that perhaps he’d been writing all of these years and more of his work might be released, and then, most powerfully of all, a voice that said, “Alex, what are you doing with your life? You are getting older and running out of time to go live in the woods as a weirdo recluse.”
Salinger was only in his early 30s when he moved out to Cornish, New Hampshire and soon after he arrived, he withdrew from most social contact. Of course, he was already an acclaimed literary genius by that time. I turn 40 next month, and I’m not an acclaimed anything. But, some of us are late bloomers. And my motto is: it’s never too late (to follow one’s heart and become a weirdo recluse).