www.simoncollier.ca

I want to feel my roots (no, that’s not a euphemism). After moving to Canada I have felt like a static nomad. I’ve had no history here, no family stories or childhood memories to tie me to Edmonton. I don’t wander past a school and reminisce about walking through the gates that seemed so massive at the time and stepping gingerly through the classroom doors. I don’t walk past a building and recall how it was once all fields there, where I used to play as a child. I don’t walk past a hill and remember the time I sprained my ankle in a sledding accident when I was five. I miss the ghosts of me, they are abandoned elsewhere.

Recently a friend of mine toured me through a couple of the oldest rooms at the University of Alberta. They were beautiful. Large, tall rooms with intricate wood carvings and ceiling mouldings that defied gravity. Each of them had a fireplace, hidden storage areas in the walls and a feeling of nobility, of grandeur. When I stood in what was Dr Tory’s old office almost a century ago, I tried to imagine the room as it was depicted in the large painting on the wall. I imagined him sitting behind his desk, overlooking the rest of room. I peaked out of the window and pictured what he might have seen when he did the same. So many of the buildings I saw out of the window would have been missing, instead perhaps he could have seen the high-level bridge that was so recently constructed. I imagined the meetings he would have held in his office, perhaps in seats by the fireplace with a glass of port for he and his guest. I wondered how many people would have met in there, how many decisions had been made with donors, politicians and academics just feet from where I was standing. I enjoyed this. In the absence of my own ties to Edmonton I felt a stronger connection with the University, which has such deep roots in the city.

When my friend walked me through the old Arts building foyer she commented on the black and white checkered tiles. As a child she would play with her sister on them, each picking a colour that they would stand on as they navigated the game space. As we passed through I imagined the two children jumping from tile to tile and enjoyed the borrowed feeling of reminiscence and belonging. I felt envious of her memories while they made me smile.

Perhaps Edmonton will always just be “my current city of residence”, even if I stay here for the rest of my life. Over the past decade I have grown an understanding of the importance of personal history, which I always took for granted. I do hope my kids (one day) will feel that where they live is their home and I will do my best to make sure they have memories all around them, as my parents did for me.