Since I’m heading home to ma’s house, which despite my best efforts brings on a certain nostalgia, I’ll drop a few stories on y’all here the next few days.
This is a truck stop on the south end of Saskatoon where in 2002, after having run my dumb transient ass out of Alberta, and been directed out of the house I’d been staying in in Saskatoon by an estranged father who was wary of a young longhair staying with his 20ish year old daughters and estranged wife, I was dropped off here to find my way.
First trucker I talked to was heading straight to Winnipeg, albeit with severe cooling system troubles. We limped the rig to three blocks from my mom’s house in Portage La Prairie overnight.
Mom, not exactly enthused to see her Kerouac-fetishizing son at her door, refused to let me in the house, didn’t even let me see my dog, and said, “there’s nothin for you in this town, go the fuck back to Alberta.” Tough love. And appreciated, in retrospect. I haven’t lived anywhere but Alberta since.