Friday, July 1, 2011

disclaimer: please understand, as you read the following post, that i write it as a woman who misses home.  nothing is meant to offend or to make-fun of in any way.  as i try to embrace my home here and let go of the one there, these are the emotions that surround.

it was the summer i turned 18 when i drove through the night in that old pick-up truck and turned my back on the country of my birth.

the one that is emblazoned on my passport.

i took one look at the blue of the ocean, the grey of the skies, the moon that seemed older, all hung up in the sky over a country hundreds of years older than my own.

and i fell wildly in love.

no longer content where i was (but was i ever?) and longing for some way to cross that unseen line and make my home where everything seemed bolder.  braver.  stronger.

because i come from a land where, in my case at least, the people are reserved.

the mounties are red.

and the coffee is tim's.

where the winters will freeze your skin in less than a minute if you aren't careful.

and i was just a girl from a small prairie town in the middle of nowhere.

so i married (unintentionally) the american i had loved from a distance for 4 years until he finally, finally noticed me.

together we dreamed a dream and packed up and moved south.

to the land of rain and grey and coffee and grunge.

and i had 2 babies there.

and i grew, i changed there.

and we almost fell apart there.

and we moved back north,

where i never thought i would leave.

but God is the Master Story Teller and He gently rewrote what i had written down and in the blink of an eye, our van was facing south again,

as my hands trembled and the tears poured down.

because i am anything but brave, anything but strong in this place where both are held in such high regard.

and i feel lost most of the time, navigating my way through, this time with three little ones in tow.

but the tables down here?  they have four legs too.

and i'm learning that wherever you are, whether in the home of the brave or the true north strong and free, it takes courage to open up your heart to someone.

to invite them in; to find a place at a kitchen table or living room couch, to share a cup of coffee or a plate of cookies or a piece of your heart.

it takes courage.

no, i may have stopped saying "eh!" a long time ago, (but did i ever?) i may have begun to prefer starbuck's over tim's (except when i need to "rrrrroll up the rrrrrim"), and i may skip saying some words all together because i mix up the different pronunciations, unable to remember which country says it which way...

and while i try and embrace life to the fullest in my new home, in this place...there will always be a part of my heart that i left behind.

and i will always, always wear a toque each winter.

maybe even with a pom-pom.

happy canada day.

i miss you...