August 30, 2020. Western Head, Nova Scotia. Conversations.

A week ago Saturday, David N. came to measure the letters for Connor. And he stayed for a cup of coffee. And we talked. He said that during the shut down when everone were required to stay home, he did fine, but he missed the conversations he was used to have through out the day. I mentioned that one aspect of Kens death was thst I missed our conversations. Just before he left, we both talked about the summer of 2020 when no visitors could be found anywhere. When he left, he asked if he could pop in to chat for a bit on his way home from work. And he did. Twice this week, David arrived just as I was drinking my orange drink, which I do in the office. We talk while I drink. And I enjoyed every minute. He was born and raised in Liverpool as have his ancestors. The cemetary in Cape Sable Island is full of Nickersons so he knows a lot of history of Nova Scotia. And this evening he called to ask if he could bring me dinner, which he did. He just dropped off a plate of baked ham, potao salad and tomartoes. I enjoyed dinner. During one of our chats, he told me that he cooks each week. Usually he cooks something on the weekend than just eats on what he cooked through the week. Today he baked a ham. David lives in his grandparents home. He also spent the bulk of his childhood in the house. I had been told that he had interited that home, but that was not the case. His grandfather gave the property to the three grancdchildren. David bought out his two siblings. The house is a time capsule. His grandfather had it built in 1932. Nothing has been changed. His grandfather died in 1980. Amazing that everything is as it was when it was built. The kitchen is the same. David likes it just as it is. I believe that I am the beneficiary of David's kindness. He is taking me on as a project to keep me from being lonely. He is a good fellow.