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  • I am about to receive my father, Victor's watch. When he died, I was a 3 year old girl. He had worked for the CN railroad on the S&L line in Cape Breton, Canada. The Sydney to Louisbourg line.

    Upon his death, the watch was given to his brother Jimmy. The year was 1956. My Uncle Jimmy died a few years ago, the watch sitting unknown in a drawer until my cousin Donnie recently learned it's provenance.

    I had left my hometown and my roots along with friends and family connections in 1977. For a long time, I was homesick and felt disconnected way out West. Nothing can ever replace your early childhood connections to community, family, and friends. The roots run deep and inform the person you become.

    I have only been able to go back three times since then. Each time, I am cocooned and loved by my relatives and friends. Our conversations seem to begin as though there was never a break in time.

    Last September, I visited again with my husband. He was astounded by the immediate return of my Cape Breton accent, long dormant. The lilting rhythms and unique regional expressions returned me to something I thought I had lost. I was home again connected to my very core to friends and family that I knew now were permanent and deeply loving and loved.

    I will wear the watch proudly, the watch that had been touched by my father, Victor , 59 years ago. A precious momento that connects me to my past and enduring family love.
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