Now Seasoned With Clay and Memories

I took this selfie on my way home from a little uptown trip — I needed to grab cat food and exchange a Dollarama webcam. (Not a fabulous cam, mind you, but for $5? The fact that it even works is kind of miraculous, honestly.)

While I was out, I ran into my old acquaintance Danny. He runs this quirky little “tourist trap” stand down by the cruise dock, where he sells handmade jewelry crafted from locally sourced red clay. He gifted me another piece for my collection — this one is a black cat on red clay, and you can see it in the picture. I really love it.

We chatted a bit while the sky cycled through some gentle drizzles. He told me he’d considered moving to Halifax but decided against it. Said it was “too fast, too much big city life and hassle.” So for now, he's staying put in “good old peaceful Saint John by the Bay.” I can't say I blame him.

This time around, I was lucky enough to not be accosted by any nefarious dudes — probably because I didn’t stop anywhere for too long. So that’s a win, too.

I snapped the selfie mostly to let Drew know I was nearly home, but something about it hit me harder than expected. If you’d told me 30 years ago that I’d even be here to take that photo, I would’ve straight-up laughed in your face. I never really believed I’d make it to 30 — and here I am, staring down 50 in just six months.

That realization felt worth noting. Maybe even worth writing down.

Now, as I gear up to clean what can only be described as a total kitchen wasteland (shout-out to Goblin Tools and Crime Junkies for the backup), the usual static in my spicy brain has made room for a few deeper thoughts. Reflections on how far I’ve come. A bittersweet sense of nostalgia. Quiet remembrance of those who didn’t make it this far with me.

And maybe, just maybe, a tiny disappointment that growing older isn't nearly as romantic as the movies made it seem. But it’s also not as terrible as I once feared.

There’s something to be said for making it — not in the Instagram-influencer way, but in the “I’m still here, I’m still trying, and I’ve got red clay necklaces and stories to prove it” way.