When I was 23 years old, I packed everything I owned into my parents’ mini-van and headed east. The van was filled to the limit with boxes, bags, art supplies, and my cat, Parsifal, wedged among them. My parents were the kind of quietly generous people who never complained about a 20 hour drive across provinces. Looking back now as a parent myself, I can hardly believe they did it. They not only drove me all the way to Halifax, but stayed until I found a place to live.

It took a few tries, but we eventually found a small apartment in Dartmouth, just across the harbour from Halifax. There was a bus that passed right by the building and took me downtown to NSCAD. It was perfect.

Leaving Toronto had been a leap. I’d finished my 4-year program at OCA, but at the time they weren’t degree granting. NSCAD was, and they were willing to transfer all my credits so I could earn a B.F.A. in one school year. The plan seemed straightforward, but the move itself was something else entirely. I had never lived outside Ontario, and the idea of starting over in a city I had never seen felt both thrilling and uncertain. I was also leaving behind a girlfriend who was studying at York University, which made the decision even harder.

Being a senior student helped ease the nerves. My early days were practical: sorting out student loans, figuring out my class schedule, and making sure Parsifal was settled. Still, the quiet of being alone in a new city took some getting used to. Halifax, though, made it easy.

From the start, the city and its people felt open and warm. Coming from Toronto, I carried a “keep to myself” attitude. In Halifax, that faded fast. People said hello on the street. Drivers stopped to let me cross, sometimes when I hadn’t even planned to, but I crossed anyway out of politeness. That would never happen in Toronto! Fellow students would notice me sitting alone at a school dance or pub night and wave me over. Slowly, I began to lean into that openness.

I started going out more. To pub nights alone, dinners alone, long walks exploring the city alone. Somehow, I was never lonely. Each time, someone greeted me with an easy smile or started a conversation. Within a few months, I felt like I belonged. Even the weather, good or bad, seemed to draw everyone closer together. We were all in it together.

By the end of that school year, I had completed my degree and was returning to Toronto for the summer of 1993. But Halifax stayed with me. It seeped into my sense of self, softened my edges, and reminded me how community can feel when people look up and make eye contact.

I built a wonderful life back in Toronto. I married that girlfriend from York University and built a career I love. Still, Halifax calls to me. I’ve gone back a few times, and every time I arrive it feels familiar, as if the city never stopped saving a place for me.

Halifax was in me.