Leaving Home, Going Home

Tomorrow my daughter-in-law and granddaughter head with the U-Haul to northern Ontario, where my son is already waiting for them. I wish them a safe journey and a happy life in their new home. It reminds me inevitably of my own arrival in Ontario, in November 1989, with this same son--then age nine months--and my husband. I had no idea where I was going or what I would find when I got there, but I knew my husband knew, and that was good enough for me. Wherever he was was home. We arrived in a snowstorm at midnight, crossing the border at Sault Ste. Marie. I've always wanted to go back someday and see what the town looks like in sunshine.

My heart goes out to Rowyn's other grandmother, who has to say goodbye to them for now after two years of closeness. I am starting to gain a deeper understanding of what my own mother went through when I disappeared off to Canada. They will be away from both sides of the family now and will have to rely on each other and build the self-reliance and strength as a family that will carry them through the years ahead.

I have found great beauty in Ontario. I never tire of the rolling green fields, the salmon-coloured maple leaves in autumn, the rippled-looking folds of gray granite poking above the soil, the majesty of wild-haired and wind-whipped white pines. It is very different from the sun-baked and sage-scented landscape I grew up in, but I fell in love with it immediately and am content to live here always. I hope my son and his family find love and happiness in their new home.