It was like something out of a movie. Or like going back in time to another era. Standing next to that old house sent chills down my spine.

The old house I’m referring to, incredibly, is the actual homestead where some of my ancestors started a new life after immigrating from Scotland in the early 1800’s. Hidden about five kilometers off a main highway, in a thick wooded area in East Bay, Nova Scotia, it’s a miracle it was ever discovered. It looked as if it hadn’t been touched in the century since the last occupants abandoned it, not even by vandals.

It was discovered by my curious cousin whose desire was to learn about our ancestry and complete our family tree. Her past-time eventually became a full-blown project which took her through numerous libraries, archives and interviews resulting in a full-length book with hundreds of names of people from six generations past.

Through her research, is how she discovered where this old homestead was. The first time she ventured into those woods, she was looking for the location, but instead found this small, wooden, bungalow still intact.

The first time I laid eyes on the house, I felt strangely at home. Maybe it was because I knew I existed through these people, my forefathers. The people who came to this country to start a new and more prosperous life and helped shape it to be what it is today.

Or maybe it was being able to do something many people don’t get to do. Walking on the actual land where my once living ancestors prospered and lived day-to-day lives.