Fourth of July

Our family celebrated Canada Day with a visit to the local park where the city was hosting a party for "kids of all ages." Makayla enjoyed the petting zoo but a ride on one of the slow-paced kiddie rides scared her, even with her Daddy beside her to calm her down. And in the midst of the red and white, and the faces painted with a red maple leaf on each cheek, the miniature Canadian flags, I felt a little out of place. I am Canadian. I grew up in Canada from the age of 5 and have very few memories of my country of birth. My family has estabished roots here. I have grandparents, uncles, and nephews buried here. Yet, I felt homesick. I couldn't quite put my finger on it until I saw the Fourth of July festivities on TV.

Boston, Massachusetts, USA was my home for a mere 5 years but I never felt more at home than when I was there. Never once did I ever feel as though I did not belong there. Never once was I asked where I came from, a question I heard too many times as I was growing up in Canada. And even though my stay was relatively short, I cannot help but call Boston my hometown because, in my heart, it's home.

And, with the Fourth of July cookouts, parties and fireworks unfolding today, my heart is there in Boston. I am Canadian, but I am also American and that part of me still yearns for home.