We had a beautiful time up north. The children were so excited to go on this great trek that we did not hear a peep out of them for the 2 day drive there. We took a break from the scorching Montreal heat and took in the fresh air. We took rides by the Great River, went to the beach and roasted marshmallows in the back yard. My dear husband baked us bread every day. It was plain goodness.

For the first time, I saw my son go out to talk to the other kids at the park. There must be something in him that says that these are his people. We met some of our old friends, spent evenings playing board games, catching up, sharing dreams like in the old days. We also met new people, people with incredible stories and unusual life paths. Every so often, the door would open and someone would just drop in to say hi. At work, it was a continuity of hugs and happiness at seeing old colleagues. It was a good time.
Going back also reminded me that I cannot be in two places at once. After two weeks, my daughter asked for her princess bike and for her friends from daycare. I looked at her and I realized that I had to build a home for my children. Being up north, I realized that I had to pour my heart into our new place, strengthen it, pour in the warmth and love that turns a house into a home. I realized that I treated our new house as a transition place. So many years as a traveling gyspsy does that. Where you live doesn’t really matter. But I saw our old house up north and I felt a twinge, something I have never felt about a home before. My son kept asking for the keys and about when we could go home. I knew exactly what he meant. I have to give the kids that same place here. I have to set down roots like a great, majestic Oak. This is not to say that I have said goodbye to the north. God willing, I will be going back for many years to come. But it is now the place I travel to. And here is the place I come home to.