Moving North. A Pep Talk.

I had an interesting conversation with a pair of young buyers last week. In the back and forth of “Where are you from? What do you do? How was the drive?”, they asked me if I was from here. It’s a question I get a lot, and the short answer is no. I grew up in Pickering, but my grandparents lived here since before I was born, so I spent every weekend, summer, and holiday at their place. It was our cottage. After going to school and living in Toronto for a while, I made the move back to Kirkfield full time, and that was about 7 years ago. “Yea, so from cottage to resident.” I concluded with, hoping I hadn’t bored them, but adequately conveyed that "Yes, I am a local now. I live here. I know this area. You can trust me."

“How did you find the transition?” he asked me. There was a little more intention behind the ask. It wasn’t a throw-away question like you do in polite conversation. They were looking at this place as a home, not as their cottage, and he wanted to know what it’s like to live here, full time, as a young person coming from the city.

“It’s different.” I said honestly. “It’s not going to be like Toronto. It’s its own thing entirely. But you can find places for whatever you’re interested in, and you’ll build a community.” He smiled and nodded. I hadn’t convinced him, but I knew I wouldn’t. It’s a big move. A person needs to arrive there on their own. “I’m just worried we’re never going to see our friends again.” she said, and I understood completely. The uncertainty of leaving the life you knew behind, of not knowing what this new place had in store. Here’s the pep-talk I would have given myself, knowing what I know now.

First and foremost, there will be no starbucks. But there’s a great coffee shop downtown with a beautiful little patio and soft serve ice cream. And you’re going to get 10% off because you’re a member of the gym up the road, so Starbucks can suck an egg. Speaking of, no, there’s no Goodlife, and I know you liked it there. But your new gym is way better equipped, the owner is there everyday, and one day he’s going to bring his Doberman puppy in, and it’ll be cuter than anything you’ve ever seen at Goodlife.

There’s not going to be a prairie girl cupcake either. But there’s a small French bakery run by a legit Frenchman, and his chocolate croissants and cheese pretzels and sourdough bread are better than any cupcake you’re had. In a few years, he’s going to offer delivery, and then you’ll have a whole new problem on your hands. There’s an incredible cheesecake bakery in Bobcaygeon, which is mercifully too far for regular access, but they’ll also partner with your favourite butcher, coffee shop, smoothie bar, AND Italian restaurant in town, so you’re never really going to escape that either.

You’re not going to be able to walk to St. Lawrence Market after work, and to be real, this one’s gonna hurt for a while. But the Saturday farmers market on Victoria street will have fresh, local produce, those Taste of Russia perogies you like, and kettle corn, which you didn’t know you needed until you had it. Then you’re going to find a butcher that carries an unbelievable selection of made-in-house burgers, sausages, beef short ribs, and custom cuts from local farmers. You’re going to get to know each other, and he’ll ask you how the real estate market is every once in a while, and you’ll ask how the family is doing during lockdown. Then you'll dip next door to Kawartha bakery for buns for the burgers, and maybe a sandwich. Maybe a pie to take to dinner up the road that night.

You can’t walk to the Cat and Fiddle with your roommate on Saturday nights for a beer, or subway to meet friends at White Brick Kitchen for brunch, or catch a cheap Jays game with your coworkers. But pretty regularly, you’ll get a text from your neighbor saying “Lunch in Fenelon today? Pick u up in the boat?”, and you’ll just get to… boat to lunch. There’s still a Cat and Fiddle though. Your work’s Christmas party will end up there one year, and it’ll be just as messy as the one you left behind on the Danforth.

And you’re still going to see your friends. A lot. You’ll even successfully move a few up here. And on sunny afternoons between work calls, you’re going to sit in the sunshine on the lawn and catch up. And on Thursdays, just before your Toronto friends make their way up to your place for the weekend, they’ll ask you “Need anything from the city?” you’ll text back “Nope. Not a thing. All good.”