I left Canada when I was 18 years old for college and the longer I’m gone, the farther away it feels. Four years ago, my mom finally passed away after a 30-year battle with MS. Add in a pandemic where I couldn’t cross the border to return home and my Dad’s multiple battles with cancer during that time–and I treasure time spent with family even more.
In February for my birthday, I had one request: to fly home.
I had a few days of wicked-cold temps and a few days of moderation that made for a great visit. We hiked, skied, skated, ate (so much), did a bunny intervention of Mom’s Easter collection (100+ cottontails), and snuggled up to the fire to watch curling every night in my childhood home.
On a very cold day, Dad and I decorated Mom’s grave and we warmed up with some soup at a nearby diner after.
I glanced over and saw a father eating with his young daughter and thought about the many adventures I’d had with my dad over the years. As they walked past our table, I commented to him about their daddy-daughter date…and I pointed to my dad and me, “We are you, 40 years from now.”
He paused and I could see a shift from what was probably a regular outing he didn’t think much about to something more. And he smiled with renewed gratitude.
Because if I learned anything from not being able to cross the border to see my family for 2+ years during the pandemic is that even the little things—cheering them on at soccer, eating family dinner every night, taking that weekend trip—feel pretty big and important in the end.