My Edge Of The West Home

It is 6 a.m. on the last Friday in September. The tops of the North Shore mountains are black outlines against a dark grey sky. Below...the golden lights of houses of people not yet awake...shine through the darkness. This...is a scene...from the West Coast of Canada...that I'm looking out upon...my home...for over two decades now. I am thankful that in my many years of rambling...with my guitar never far from me...that I found this part of the world...the second place in my life that feels like home...the first being the river in Guyana...where I spent the first twelve and a half years of my life. In my northern travels...I sang in many places...and lived in several...until I arrived at "the Edge of the West"...the place where "old ramblers run no more"...as one of my songs says. For me...however...it's not just about having run out of territory to run across...and arriving at a final destination you accept with weariness and resignation...but the final finding of a place that warms my heart and feeds my spirit...a place I can unequivocally call...Home...even on a morning when all I can see...is the dark outline of mountains...and the rain...is not very far away...........Quester.