We are slipping into the gentle season of fall here, so there have been no more trips to the lake. I heard some sad news that my local Fall Fair and exhibition will be moving from the original grounds to a place outside of town. They are selling the grounds and will probably be building on it.
When I heard, I inexplicably felt a deep sense of sadness and loss. My family has been going to this fair for generations and I feel like part of my identity is connected to this place. I've barely had a chance to grasp my breath after my rollercoaster ride to cancerdome and now I feel I am losing another piece. I decided to make the best of it and make the trip there even though I've been struggling with some health and pain issues.
To start with, my children are 6th or 7th generation in our area which is about as far back as you can go there without being First Nations. As I grew up, my parents would take me to the exhibition and we would see all the animals and rides. We would go and see my Great Grandmothers stamp collection which was always wearing the blue ribbon. I'd see all the artwork from the children with ribbons on them and wish I was the one who had entered. I'd also see all the Lego entries and wish I had such beautiful Lego!
We'd go and see my grandfather who was proudly working at the Scouts pancake house and we'd have pancakes. He would always pinch my cheeks and give me a smile like no other person on this planet has. He's also call me squirt, as in "Hey Squirt!"
The Autumn which I began to fall ill started with my grandfather having a fall and dying in the hospital five days later. I never really recovered from that. I don't remember much that passed after until my diagnosis. I feel like I just slide out to black. Going to the pancake house felt empty this time but I felt his spirit there.
The fairgrounds were across from my highschool and my love and I would occasionally get too frisky at lunch, with nowhere to go. One day we hopped the fence into the empty grounds and did the wild thing in one of the barns. Every year after that I would make sure to pass by the barn and feel a little guilty but also savour the memory.
The largest barn I watched burn down as I was at my highschool graduation dinner. It started with a tiny trickle of smoke and got bigger, and bigger all the while wondering if someone had called the fire station yet. Finally they came but it burned to the ground in the meantime.
So, this time I wandered and took photos of everything to just document the place. It feels a little like I'm afraid of forgetting, but I know now, I won't forget.
