Our newspaper received many calls from people in Slave Lake about their “Good Neighbours,” enough to fill our Page 9 for the following months.
I felt happy last week, despite the icy roads and my flat tires. Was it the weather? It was so sunny last week. Was it my small amount of savings? Perhaps. Or was it about the “Good Neighbours” in our paper? It makes me feel good to hear about the good deeds of our people here in town. I always enjoy it.
But I never realized how much I’m enjoying my time here in Slave Lake until my father asked me to come back home to Edmonton. My car got stuck in a snowdrift a few weeks ago. But thanks to my good neighbours, my car was able to get out of the ditch after a few hours. When I updated my parents about it, or any of the unfortunate events that have happened here since I moved alone, they felt bad and worried, which is very understandable. They were relieved when I told them that there are actually many helpful people here, but I know their worries never left them.
I mean, to all the parents, how do you never really worry about your child? When I was a child, my parents told me they were worried about how I would grow up. Will I grow up to be a good person?
But now, they worry about my health, safety, and happiness.
Have you eaten? What did you eat? Did you get home safely? Are you happy there? Those are the questions I receive from them every day.
I called my mother last week. I told her some of the things that happened to me. I told her the driveway in my parking space at my landlord’s house is blocked. (The Town of Slave Lake was clearing the snow at that time.) But they went to my parking space when they knew I needed to leave and cleared my way. I was able to get out just fine.
I told her that I was offered a free dinner at the arts council here, and I felt welcomed by the people. I enjoyed talking with them about my day and hearing about their day. I told her my neighbour and his friend cleared the block of ice in my driveway. I also told her that I’m treated nicely at work.
I told her my landlords would also go down in the basement and give me free food. I told her I met with some Filipinos here and was given a free dinner. I was able to connect again with my roots.
And I told her that I’m starting to get used to it here. I’m starting to memorize different places, and I don’t use GPS anymore. I told her I actually enjoy my time here, and it’s not the time yet to go back to them. My mom smiled, and she laughed at my stories. “Malaki ka na,” she said, which means, “you’re already big.” She also meant that I’m already an adult.
But I still feel like a child, growing up – especially with all the help and warm welcomes I’m receiving here.
I think when we move to new places, we’re like lost children, wandering around. But we get used to it, and eventually grow up in each place we live. I’m growing up in this town, and thank you to the people whom I met over the past five months while I’m working here in the newspaper.
I’m excited to hear your story.
Julia Magsombol