Decided to share this today
Written September 6 2025
Letter to Myself – September 2025
Dear Tina,
I’m writing this as three towers of Sen̓áḵw already rise above the bridge. The cranes move so fast it feels like glass and steel have grown overnight. By 2026, people will be moving in — thousands of them — and the place you knew so well will be transformed.
I want you to remember what came before. The green building where you found a safe home for $630 a month. The mornings you walked to work under the bridge, sometimes in the early dark or afternoon light, not always safe. That’s why you later rode your bike, keeping it close when you painted — helmet on, always ready to move.
The under-bridge world was raw. People were being robbed. Tents caught fire — sometimes by accident, sometimes on purpose. Garbage piled up, graffiti sprawled across the walls. It was harsh, even frightening. But that was why you painted. Mermaids, then butterflies — to cheer it up, to bring a little beauty back. You painted because the question kept echoing: what would Chief Khatsahlano say?
Remember too the berries you picked, the cherries you ate, the birthday parties in Vanier Park, the kites in the wind. Remember how you dreamed of hanging gardens under the bridge, a farmers market, art alive in that space. Remember the way the land always pulled you back, almost karmic, as if it wanted you here. Remember also the deeper history: Chief Khatsahlano, born here, walking this ground long before the fences and towers.
Right now, it feels complicated — a mix of pride, grief, anger, and awe. Towers rising for 14,000 people, built in the name of reclamation, yet still carrying the feeling of colonization.
When you read this a year from now, maybe the skyline will already feel different, maybe your life will too. Hold on to your memories, because they matter. Hold on to your vision of what healing could have looked like.
And never stop asking: What would Khatsahlano think?
With love and truth,
Me
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