At the Manor, there are 48 suites with two or one-bedrooms and bachelor suits. Most of the people who live here are immigrants from the Chez Republic, Bosnia, India, Ireland, Iran, Korea, Japan, Peru, Philippines, Poland, Russia, Serbia, Sweden, Yugoslavia and other countries that I can’t think of.
I am one of them.
Now, we are citizens of Canada. We made The Manor our home.
“O Canada, our home and native land” is the first line of our National Anthem.
The residents here are lovely, approachable and pleasant. We enjoy chatting from the balcony, window or entranceway as I potter around the garden. I must admit the garden is an icebreaker for many, even from passersby.
One of the tenants took up photography and had a field day taking macro shots of all the flowers in the garden. The end product was framed and gifted to our lovely manager of the building.
When I cut flowers from my hard-earned gardening, these go to the manager as well.
From single to couple to third-generation residency, I’ve witnessed them. Most of these people love to have their family around living in the same roof. It’s good to see a couple having a child or two and be able to bring a surviving parent to add the responsibility of taking care of their children.
Of course, I get to play with the children when they were younger in the garden.
Kindness plays a big important role in living in this community. If you are unkind, who else will help you but your neighbour?
I must admit I find myself special because the manager allowed me to paint my suite when I had one of my episodes on mental breakdown. The activity kept my focus away from living in my head.
The end result was brilliant.
Pistachio green paint in the living room, kitchen and hallway. A hint of a rose colour for the bathroom. Skyblue for my bedroom to calm me down.
Oh, these little things, I am grateful.