Home.

I grew up with a very real sense of national patriotism. Not of the Canadian variety, either. With an immigrant for a father words like home and family often meant a place and people thousands of miles of blue water away. No one I knew grew up like this. It was completely normal and completely strange at the same time. 

Hearing strains of different languages every Sunday when Dad called any number of aunts and uncles and cousins was comforting and special and often produced the oddest looks from friends that may have happened to be visiting during these calls. (Truth be told, I think it still throws the husband a little bit and he's been coming over for the last 14 years.) I don't think I have ever eaten a turkey for Christmas dinner, opting instead for traditional pork (with rinds) and candied potatoes and rice pudding for dessert. I have never opened gifts on Christmas morning. Until I got married no one ever pronounced my last name properly. I am forever ruined for North American made candy. I have an unnatural love for rye bread smothered in mackeral in red sauce and mayo. Sandwiches are always better open faced. I have an appreciation for teak that runs so deep it can only be genetically based. I think this heritage also would explain my love for all things mid-century modern because really does anyone do it better than the Scandinavians? Didn't think so. I can't even tell you how many times I've mourned the loss of the free education, extended vacation time, unreal healthcare, pension, insurance... and on and on it goes. The highest taxes in the world seem a small price to pay, right? Ah, maybe not, but it just sounds so good.  And while my dad never taught us his language (for my thoroughly Canadian mom's sake)I think it's one of his biggest parenting regrets. 

Until we were grown it was never an option for the whole family to make a pilgrimage 'home' but in 3 days time the only remaining one of us to not make the journey will get to. In fact everyone but me and my own little family will be there together in just hours. And it makes me sad. For a time we thought the trip would be possible, even with our meager new budget. Alas it wasn't meant to be and with good reason because as life unfolded in front of us and a baby came into being we realized it just wouldn't have worked. 

Or it would have. But just like it did the last time. With me in a foreign bed, throwing up foreign food, while the husband explored on his own. 'Home' didn't feel so much like home then. Saskatchewan seemed liked Utopia for the agonizing few days that 5 week holiday actually lasted.  And even though I can see all of the blessing's God's given us weave back to that trip and our early marriage I would never willingly go through that again. So while I wish I could make the trip... I am content to stay here, with the people who really make me feel at home, and wish bon voyage to the rest of them. 

Don't forget to bring me some candy. The orange ones are my favorite.